Fleeting Eternity Part 2
by EinsteinHawking
Summary: Hermione and Draco have managed to keep their on-again-off-again relationship secret for a good few years now, but can it last much longer now that Harry's learnt the truth? Slight AU, 5-7, DM/HG/HP.
1. Checkmate

**A/N: For those of you who've read Part 1:**

**Thank you so much for waiting so long for second half of this story. Two whole months! I haven't had much time to write lately with work and college and whatnot but I am determined to get this story up and running once again, both for you lot and because I just love it too much. Also thanks for the amazing reviews. **

**And for those of you who haven't:**

**Please go and read Part 1 because I've changed a few things and...well, just go read it! **

* * *

><p><strong>Year Five: The Order of the Phoenix<strong>

Chapter 33

Checkmate

Hermione lay in bed and stared at the grand ceiling. She should have been asleep, seeing as tomorrow would be September first, and their first day back at Hogwarts. The least she should have done was caught up on her studies, but she found herself unable to move for she was too lost in thought.

Her head was utter chaos. Firstly Voldemort was back. The image of Cedric Diggory's dead body still haunted her, and she knew it haunted Harry too. His return was a major problem, but it wasn't at the forefront of her mind, nor was the fact that Harry could've easily been put in Azkaban for using underage magic outside of school. For goodness sake her OWLs weren't even her first thought! Neither was the idea that Harry had missed out on being made Prefect and Ron –yes, _Ron_- had got the post instead.

Rather these things were a distant muddled thought, a faint ringing noise in the back of her head and that's because someone else had claimed her attention.

It wasn't unusual for her to think about him.

Especially not at night, when she was alone and without Harry or Sirius or Lupin or any of the Weasley family to remind her of what she ought be worried about. And not when 12 Grimmauld Place once belonged to the Black family and consequently Draco's mother, Narcissa.

Here, in the darkness of the deep aubergine bedroom, there was nothing to take her thoughts away from him. In fact, everything in this room, and the rest of the house, only served to shove it in her face.

She still hadn't forgotten what Harry had told her that day on the Astronomy Tower. How Draco had wished her dead. The memory of that day pained her. Even now she couldn't rid herself of the look in Harry's eyes when she'd told him everything. He'd looked so hurt that she almost wanted to erase everything that had happened that day, even if it meant erasing that kiss also. On one hand, she actually thought that might be better. She wouldn't be suffering the way she was now, would she? She wouldn't spend nearly every night wondering if things could've been different. If Harry hadn't opened that door. If Draco had stayed. If she'd been a pureblood.

Hermione hadn't heard a thing from the Slytherin since that fateful day.

She had thought about writing him, but decided against the idea. After all, what was to even say he'd write back? Or that she'd like what he had to say? No, she'd have rather not known. But at the same time, it was driving her mad; she had hardly slept the past few weeks for worrying about what it would be like when school re-commenced. Questions raced around the crevices and crooks of her mind, and the reasons for his sudden aversion for her went on and on. She tried desperately not to think about it. Because the more she allowed herself to think, the harder the beating she gave her self-esteem.

Finally fed up with her rather repetitive train of thought, Hermione sat up and climbed out of bed. She put on a pair of plain white slippers and a brown zip hoodie that complimented her dusty rose coloured pyjamas –and they were nothing fancy either, just a simple long sleeved top and striped bottoms. Hermione wasn't one for frills.

She tip-toed out into the hall and down the stairs, the portraits on the walls of the stern-faced Black family recoiled at her and gave her an icy glare,

"Filthy mudbloods!" one screeched,

"Besmirching the house of Black!" another grumbled in revulsion,

"Scum."

"Get out!" another bellowed.

Hermione tried to hush them, but they refused to listen,

"You little helminth! How dare you walk the same corridor as Mistress Lestrange once did?"

She ignored them and hurried into the sitting room where she hoped they'd leave her be. Hermione was surprised to find Harry talking to Sirius. From what she could gather it was something about a dream. She realised then how selfish she'd been unloading all her problems onto her friend. He had enough of his own as it was without needing to hear about her complicated romance. Or lack of, that is.

Sirius held Harry's shoulders, he gave him a small shake and looked him dead in the eyes,

"You know, Harry, the more I see you, the more like your mother you are." he murmured.

Harry smiled, Hermione averted her gaze, the moment lasted no more than a few seconds.

A moment later Sirius turned to her,

"Hermione," he said in that ever pleasant way of his, "bit late, isn't it?" he gave her a faux warning look.

The Gryffindor girl laughed, eyes darting to Harry, who stared back with such intensity she really didn't know where to look.

"What are you doing up?" Harry's godfather asked when she didn't say anything.

Hermione made her way further into the heart of the sitting room,

"Oh, I was, um, studying..." she lied,

"Of course. Your exams this year. Well, don't worry your little head over it. You'll do wonderfully."

She beamed at him. Sirius was such a good person. He always had a way of making people feel loved.

"Er, thank you." she replied, giving a small shrug.

Upon finding the sudden silence incredibly awkward, Sirius gave a court nod to the pair of them and made his leave, bidding them goodnight, even though it was a little after midnight

The door swung shut behind him. Harry sat on the sofa, green orbs focused on her. She blushed and went to lean against the arm beside him. An echoing quiet filled the room. Crashing into the walls and licking at their heels. It was everywhere. The heavy, uncertain tension between them. It had never been like this before. Never, in all her time as a witch, had she ever felt uncomfortable to be with Harry, least of all alone.

If anything she always found his presence to be quite the opposite.

Hermione mentally berated herself for letting it come to this.

"I'm sorry." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Neither of them moved now. Harry stared at a crack in the wooden floor, while she folded her arms across her chest, effectively pulling the hoodie tighter around her small waist,

"What for?" he asked, though she could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

Why he was making her say it aloud was beyond her. Harry wasn't the type to deliberately do something to hurt someone, unless they deserved it. So, did that mean their friendship was falling apart? Did that mean that he was having doubts about her loyalty to him? So much so, that he needed to hear the reason for her apology when he already knew it? Hermione tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears and started again, hesitantly,

"For what happened on the Astronomy Tower with..." she hadn't said his name out loud in so long, it was bad enough just thinking it, let alone feeling the way it caressed her lips as it left her mouth, "With Malfoy."

Harry said nothing, but his expression darkened, his face shifting to become distant and angry, like he was replaying the event in his head and though the memory was old, the rage he'd felt was still fresh. The-Boy-Who-Lived seemed to become suddenly enthralled in the crack, not once did his lift his head to grace her with his gaze. Hermione felt something inside her chest tighten, her guts churning. It was a feeling she'd become accustomed to, especially around Draco, but around Harry...? Well, it was entirely different. Never had Harry been so cold towards her. Even in the first few days after Cedric's death, he had welcomed her urge to comfort him with open arms. She'd thought the bond between them was unbreakable. That they were thicker than thieves. Apparently not. Hermione hadn't realised up until now how truly awful it would feel to lose that, because until now she hadn't ever thought it possible.

She touched him arm, he tensed, she glanced down at the floor. Afraid what she would find there. Anger. Hurt. Hatred. It would break her heart if she lost Harry. It would break her heart if she lost Draco. She sucked in a breath. She couldn't choose between them. They both meant so much to her. She couldn't just sacrifice the boy she loved for her best friend and she couldn't turn her best friend away for the boy she loved.

Hermione's lungs began to falter. She tried to hide it, but the truth was evident on her face.

She was going to have to pick one day. And it was an impossible choice.

"You know, if I still had a Time-Turner I'd go back and change everything." she said, firmly.

Her brows rose briefly, somehow extenuating the bossiness in her tone.

That seemed to ease some of the tension rolling off his frame in tendrils.

"Really?"

"Of course!"

He nodded once, the muscle in his arm relaxed, and his fingers found hers, she took his hand and smiled softly.

It was nice to know he wasn't quite as annoyed with her anymore, and she wasn't lying either. She would have gone back and she would have stopped that kiss from ever happening, because all it had done was hurt her and Harry. She wasn't certain what Draco thought about it. A part of her thought perhaps he was as confused and terrified as she was, but another, more logical part of her knew it probably wasn't the case.

As she stood there staring down at Harry, with his hand in hers. She wondered what it would be like if she had fallen for him instead. Things would have certainly been easier. He was kind and caring and unafraid to show his true feelings without completely losing it. He would never deliberately hurt her because he was jealous or in a bad mood or whatnot. Unlike Draco's volatile emotions, Harry was usually constant. Unchanging. Safe.

She could've easily found solace in him.

In his quiet, reserved, gentlemanly personality.

That's not to say she disliked the fact that Draco was...well, as mysteriousas he was, nor did it mean that she didn't occasionally get fed up with Harry's mild mannerisms.

Hermione liked both boys equally and for different reasons. There wasn't one she could imagine leaving for the other.

But right now, fixing her friendship with Harry was the priority.

Besides it kept her from thinking too much of Draco –she was borderline obsessive where he was concerned.

"Haven't heard much from him then, have you?" Harry said casually.

Like they weren't talking about his arch-nemesis.

She blinked and cleared her throat, she shook her head,

"No. Not a word."

"You're better than him, Hermione."

The girl cocked her head, studying her best friend.

Maybe she was, then again maybe not, but either way it didn't change her feelings for him.

Why couldn't she just have them both? Why couldn't they try to get on for her? Why were Draco's family so blooming prejudiced?

Harry stood in front of her now, hands in his pockets,

"And for all your brains, you're really rather thick if you can't see it."

She smiled, knowing he was joking but serious all the same.

"We'll see."

"Anyway," he said, in a lighter tone, "shouldn't you be in bed? Wouldn't want to get only nine O's now, would you?"

Hermione laughed and gently punched his arm,

"Jealousy isn't very becoming on you, Harry."

The boy snorted and moved around her to trace his fingertips along a ornamental glass chess set,

"Fancy a game of chess?" he smirked, she bit her lip, "Alright, I'll let you win the first bout."

She cocked a brow,

"That's not the point of the game." she shook her hair off her face, "Besides, it's completely barbaric."

"Come off it, I know you're just scared you'll lose."

Hermione gaped at him, jaw ajar, big brown orbs wider than ever.

She was most certainly not scared! She was a Gryffindor for goodness sake!

Lifting one of the tattered silk cushions, Hermione threw it at him, he brought his arms up to protect his face and gave a small chuckle,

"Fine, then, but no cheating. I mean it."

Hermione sat down on one side of the coffee table, legs crossed beneath her, Harry brought the chess set over to the table and sat down on the opposite side. The white was his, the black hers,

"White's go first." he explained, "So if you don't know where to move just copy me. Pawns-" he lifted the smallest of the figurines, a goblinesque creature, "can move two spaces but only on their first move, after that it's just one." Hermione nodded knowingly, she felt him watching her as she digested every bit of information, mentally jotted it down and stored it away for future reference, "They can only take people off diagonally. Bishops can only move diagonally as well but as many spaces as necessary. Okay?"

She gave a small smile,

"I'm sure can keep up, Harry."

He blew out a breath,

"Basically, you've got to keep the King alive, but it's best to keep your eye on the Queen as well -she's the best piece. Can move anywhere she likes, as many spaces, take off anyone..."

Three hours and eight games later, the pair were still playing and for the first time Hermione was winning.

It had taken some practice, but twenty-five minutes into this game she had removed five Pawns, a Knight, two Bishops, his Rook and his Queen, whilst keeping many of her own pieces intact. Then with one swift movement of her Knight to E three, she finally managed to get his King into a checkmate, cornering him with her remaining bishop and two Rooks.

Harry stared at the board in disbelief as Hermione let out a squeal of delight.

"I won!" she gasped, climbing to her feet and clasping her hands together in excitement, "I actually won!"

The Boy-Who-Lived laughed,

"That's one out of eight for you." he said, getting to his feet.

She stopped jumping and put her hands on her hip,

"Yes, and one is very good, thank you. Considering I haven't really played chess before today!"

Harry seemed unsure what to do with himself,

"Yeah, I know it's good, it's just..." he paused, gawkily, "After eight go's I'd have expected you to do a little better than..." he trailed off upon seeing her expression darken.

"What do you mean?" she asked, patience wearing thin.

He should have been happy for her, not down-playing her victory!

"N-nothing just, you know, it's-" his lip twitched, eyes gleaming mischievously, "it's a little bit of a naff score, don't you think?"

Furious, Hermione crossed the room to him, they were only a foot or so from one another now, Harry recoiled,

"_No!_ I do not think it's a 'naff score'. I think it's an excellent sco-"

Harry burst out laughing. So hard, he clutched his stomach,

"I'm kidding, 'Mione. Relax!" he said between short intakes of breath.

She froze, realising what an idiot she'd been.

A second later Harry had pushed her onto the sofa and was on top of her, tickling her, she giggled and screamed and smacked him away.

Much to the annoyance of the hall's portraits.

Her eyes fell on a blonde haired boy in the Black tapestry and a painful lump formed in her throat. Having noticed her laughter cease, Harry stopped tickling her. She gazed at his lips, so different from the pale, evenly-shaped mouth she'd kissed two months ago. His mouth pulled into a smile and he stood, lending a hand to help her up, she took it and met green met brown. Both blushed furiously but didn't mention it to the other.

"Goodnight, Harry." she murmured,

"Goodnight, Hermione." he whispered back.


	2. A Friend In Need

Chapter 34

A Friend In Need

A week into the new term and the new Defence professor, Dolores Umbridge, was driving everyone mad. Not that Hermione needed help in that department. She was simply neurotic as of late, throwing herself into her schoolwork and then there was S.P.E.W - the organisation she'd set up last year to help free house-elves and give them equal rights. Every hour of her day was spent keeping her head down in as many books as possible so as to avoid him.

Of course, it didn't stop her from bumping into him in the halls or from being paired up with him in History of Magic class by Professor Binns, who, even after all these years, still found their bickering amusing. She was hoping he'd grew bored of them soon, seeing as they weren't talking to one another at all.

Hermione scolded herself for thinking about him.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention back to the flyers that read: _House-Elves, they may be little but they ARE people too! Stop slavery, join S.P.E.W. _

"She's horrible!" Ron declared, as they met Harry after detention, "I mean, who does she think she is trying to stop us from learning magic? And she calls herself a teacher?"

Harry grunted in reply, clenching and unclenching his left hand with the burn scar stating that he 'must not tell lies'. Courtesy of Umbridge's' 'teaching'.

Indignant, Hermione jutted her chin out and waved her wand, allowing magic to stick the pages to the old, brick walls of the corridor,

"A foul old gargoyle, is what she is." she said, barely able to contain her temper, "And to use torture by means of discipline...? Dumbledore needs to hear about this."

"Look," Harry stopped in his tracks, "it's great telling Dumbledore about this, but who's going to believe us?" his tone was hopeless,

"Well, we'll just show them the proof then." Ron added, trying to be helpful, "The Ministry can't go about abusing students. It's not on."

Hermione nodded once, more flyers flew out of her hands and were pasted on to the walls. Harry watched lazily, and pinched his nose between his index finger and his thumb, and she could tell his scar was burning. She eyed him suspiciously before turning her attentions back to Ron,

"Exactly! Once they see your hand they'll have no choice but to-"

Harry let out a growl of frustration, both Hermione and Ron stared at him, slightly taken aback.

His eyes dimmed,

"You don't understand." he sighed, "People think I'm mad. You've seen the papers. 'Harry Gone Potty', 'The Boy Who Lies', 'Plotter'. The list goes on and on. Not to mention what they think about Dumbledore."

Ron frowned,

"What's wrong with Dumbledore?" he asked,

"How long have you got?" as shrill, nasty voice said from behind them.

The trio turned to find Draco with his hands in his pockets and Pansy Parkinson hanging from his arm.

Ron pulled a face, Harry gave a murderous glare and Hermione merely froze in her spot. Suddenly she had tunnel vision, only able to see the blonde haired Slytherin with his female housemate, everything else faded to black. Her heart slowed. She felt like she'd been stabbed.

"Bit late to be out of bed, Potter."

Hermione was unaware of Ron's deep pink colouring or Harry's clenched fists or Pansy's nasty laughter. All she heard was her heartbeat pounding furiously, all she saw was Draco's icy gaze on her while he smirked. His face gave nothing away as usual. Instead of being curious as to his true feelings, Hermione felt herself emotionally recoil.

"Not _plotting_ to kill someone else, are you?"

Harry's green eyes turned into tiny, snake-like slits, but he wasn't looking at the raven haired girl who spoke, he was looking at Draco instead.

She practically heard his thought in her own head. After all, it wasn't hard to gauge what he was thinking when he stared at the blonde Slytherin with such mal-intent.

"Only idiots believe anything the _Prophet _says."

Pansy's eyes bulged. She looked to Draco as if he would defend her. He didn't. He disliked those deeply lacking in intelligence just as much as Hermione and everyone knew Pansy had he same mental capacity as a concussed mountain troll.

"Why don't you just sod off back to London? Take your blood-traitor friend and filthy mudblood girlfriend with you!" -Draco winched at that last part, she saw it and she knew Harry and Ron had seen as well- "I don't fancy going to another painstakingly dull memorial anytime soon just because you've lost t-"

Unable to contain her anger at her complete lack of respect for the dead –not to mention the way Draco's hand slithered around Pansy's waist- Hermione stepped in,

"_That's it!" _she snapped, coming in between the two Slytherin's and Harry, "I'll be seeing to it that you get detention, Parkinson."

Draco glowered at her, his jaw set, while Pansy just gawked at her in disgust.

It was one of the few things Prefects could enforce on one another, so long as they had just reason and took it up with all four the Heads -which Hermione surely would, first thing tomorrow morning. It was a good idea too, seeing as how certain people had been abusing their roles. She supposed Dumbledore had suspected trouble this year and decided to put it in place. Prefects needed to be kept in line as well.

She heard Harry suppress a small laugh, quickly turning it into a faux cough, while Ron muttered to himself that he didn't know they could do that,

"On what grounds, Granger?" Draco bit out, clearly annoyed.

Hermione turned her head to him, but her focus was elsewhere,

"Bullying, discrimination, disrespect for the Headmaster. Rudeness in general."

She pointedly avoided his gaze, staring after her flyers instead, out of the corner of her eye she saw Pansy glaring at her with a smirk. The Slytherin clearly thought she'd get out of it. Didn't she realise just how many people disliked her? And not long ago Draco had been one of them. Hermione felt an ache in her stomach at the memories of how close she and the blonde used to be.

Things changed, she supposed. It just hurt to know how much and how fast they'd changed.

In that moment, seeing him pull Pansy closer, she felt their friendship slipping away, and all because of a stupid kiss!

"Let's go." was all he said as he steered Pansy away from the trio.

She watched them walking away, Draco turned to look at her over his shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat. Anticipation welled in her gut. Was he only being a git because of his reputation? Would he smile at her when Pansy's back was turned like he had in first year? Would his eyes reveal something only she could understand? No. His face gave nothing away. His lips curled into a malicious smirk, and Hermione's heart broke; whatever they had, it was over. For good this time.

Draco whispered something in Pansy's ear and she beamed, a girlish giggle escaped her and she leaned further into him. Hermione's breathing became uneven. Tear began to sting her eyes. That should have been her! Why wasn't it her? She loved him! Pansy just wanted him for the novelty! Pansy would never understand him the way she did.

It was when Draco let out a soft chuckle and leant down to kiss the girl's cheek that Hermione couldn't take anymore.

She hung her head, on the verge of breaking.

"Hey, you okay?" Ron asked.

Harry rested a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded and said in a thick voice,

"I'm fine. I'll meet you in the common room later." and with that she made a hasty exit.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't stand seeing Draco laugh and joke with Pansy, or at least she couldn't if she wanted to retain any of her sanity. It was agonising. She'd understood that things would have once again changed between them, they weren't friends anymore, but could anyone really call them enemies? He hadn't insulted her thus far -albeit he hadn't talked to her much and he'd maybe only looked at her twice, but that only made it hurt more.

Hermione sat on the staircase and cried, charmed paper birds flying around her head, the need to focus on the spell should have taken her mind off things, the problem was though, the boy who taught her how to fold those origami birds was the reason she was there.

It wasn't the pretty kind of crying depicted in Muggle television either but proper heartfelt tears; her eyes stung and her nose was red, there was even a bit of snot, which she wiped on her sleeve. Hermione didn't remember how long she'd been down here. Perhaps an hour or two. She let out a bitter laugh, still sniffling. He wouldn't care. She doubted he'd even notice if she stayed down here for another two days. _Stupid git._ She thought. _Don't know why I keep believing he actually cares about me or that he'll change or that one day I won't have to sneak around just to have a civil conversation with him. _Her mind was angrily reminding her of all the nasty thing's he done and said in the past, until eventually it was a never-ending list of his flaws, the things she hated most about him, although they were more cons than pros, she found the pros meant more anyway, which only served to make her more upset.

She heard hesitant footsteps and half-hoped it was him, she wanted him to see her like this, she wanted him feel guilty, she wanted to have a go at him.

It turned out to be Harry, her anger dissipated. She roughly wiped her eyes before glancing up at him. He towered over her, his expression one of sympathy. He gestured to the birds, his unspoken question hanging in the air,

"Charms spell." she choked out, "I'm just practicing." she looked away, ashamed he'd caught her like this.

Harry stared at the birds for a moment. His eyes narrowed and she knew he was remembering the threatening note Draco had sent him in third year, that one had also been folded into the shape of a bird and enchanted. The Boy-Who-Lived might have worn glasses but he wasn't blind, he saw the connection.

"Well, they're really good." he replied reassuringly.

She ignored that, knowing it was a lie. They were nothing compared to Draco's, she hadn't even folded them right. That's why there were five of them. She'd got stuck on the beak and the wings on every single one. Eventually she just gave up.

Hermione took a deep breath, blinking away the tears. Harry sat down beside her, his eyes never once leaving her face,

"How did it feel, Harry?" she asked, feeling the need to talk to someone, "When you saw Cho with..." she trailed off, realising that topic was just as painful, especially for him, "Oh, God, I'm sorry."

Harry's stared to the stone floor beneath them,

"It felt like this." he admitted, clearly reluctant to accept her feelings for the Slytherin.

But, unlike most people, he didn't take the opportunity to make it about his problems. She didn't know whether it was because he'd had enough of them over the years or because the image of Cedric's dead body was too fresh in his mind, either way she was grateful. It was nice to have someone listen to her for a change.

"I know you're probably going to disagree but...he's really not worth it."

She scoffed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, rolling her eyes, only the motion was marred by the tears that were resurfacing,

"I wish it were that simple."

Just then Draco came in with a giggling Pansy Parkinson on his arm and he was smirking. He looked pretty bloody content, his gaze met Hermione's and the the smile began to vanish, turning into a sneer when he noticed Harry.

She turned away, painfully aware of Pansy draped all over him, beaming happily. Apparently the girl had long forgotten about the detention Hermione had threatened her with.

Hermione felt Harry tense beside her, his expression darkened, the anger rolling off him,

"Oops. Look's like this rooms taken." came the girl's annoyingly shrill voice.

Draco gave another smile, though this one seemed tighter, as if it were forced. Pansy tried to drag him away, but he wouldn't budge so instead she left,

"Come on, Draco." she called after him.

Hermione pulled a face in distaste. How long had they been dating, anyway?

"Get lost, Malfoy." Harry said, his voice both a warning and a dare, as if he wanted him to come further into the room just so he could hit him.

She couldn't really blame him.

Draco didn't move, his features, as always, were unreadable,

"Is that any way to talk to your superiors, Potter?" he said, darkly. Completely ignoring her. Then his eyes flickered over to her, "Nice birds." he mumbled and half-turned away from her.

Fearing she was about to burst into tears again, Hermione bundled up all her anger at the blonde boy and stood, her brow furrowed in determination, her hands clenching into fists,

"_Oppugno." _she said it the same way she would in class, her tone indifferent, as though she were practicing it and not sending five paper birds furiously hurling in the direction of her best friend.

Upon recognising the jinx, Draco ran away from the birds, ducking in time to have them fly into the wall behind him and shred themselves. They fell to the ground like snowflakes. He stared back at her in horror. He straightened himself, flicking a piece of the parchment off his school shirt before sauntering away without once glancing back.

She sat down, refusing to allow her legs the chance to give out under her, she rested her head on Harry's shoulder and he put his arm around her, gently rubbing her back. Sobs racked her tiny frame.

He said they'd always be friends. He promised! And where was he now? When she needed him? With Pansy-Bloody-Parkinson, that's where!

"Why doesn't he get it, Harry?" she asked, "I mean, I love him. Really, love him, and sometimes I-" _sniff,_ "think maybe he feels the same way but then-"_ sob,_ "he has to go and be a complete git!"

Again Hermione used her now snot-stained sleeve to wipe her eyes, she let out another bitter laugh,

"You'd think after four years I'd be able to figure him out."

Harry shifted so he was facing her, he placed his hands on her shoulders in a way that reminded her of someone else,

"Listen to me. Draco Malfoy is a good-for-nothing, immature, lying arse. I think this is the kindest thing he's ever done. You're better than him and he knows it."

She moved closer to him, needing the feeling of comfort that Harry often provided, she didn't believe a single word he'd just said but at least he cared about her, at least she was good enough for someone,

"If he cared about you at all, he'd be here right now, wouldn't he? Besides I bet you could have any bloke at school, so why pick him? I mean, last year you bagged Viktor Krum. The best Seeker _in the world, _Hermione. Surely he's better for you than the likes of-"

Harry gulped and stopped talking as Hermione leant forward, leaving little distance between them. She stared at his lips. Comparing them to someone else's. Of course Harry wasn't quite as pale and his lips were also smaller, not the cupid-bow shape she'd snogged last year. His jaw was also wider. A part of her wanted to pull away and she'd almost convinced herself to, but when she met Harry's eyes she found something there...something she rarely saw in Draco's...willingness to put her first, a sort of openness, shelter.

She pressed her lips to his hesitantly, expecting him to push her away, he didn't and she couldn't make out whether because he had feelings for her or he didn't have the heart to reject her when she felt like this, but either way they kissed.

It was considerably more awkward than with Draco, Harry was far worse at this kind of thing than anyone else, he was probably the least romantic boy in the entire school, not that it bothered her. In a roundabout way it was nice, because Harry accepted her. For all her faults, he still cared about her. With him there was no hiding, no lying. He wasn't ashamed of her. With him she could find comfort without fearing that someone was going to try and snatch it away.

Hermione pressed herself to him, desperately wanting to feel...something. And Harry, in turn, pressed himself to her. His hands on her arms, hers on his neck and shoulders. Their tongues interlaced and there was something beautiful about it, something pure. Real. She knew why. Harry was one of her oldest friends, someone she could rely on and their kiss made her feel cherished, unconquerable, like nothing in the world could ever hurt her, like with each caress he was mending her -it was as if he could erase all the damage left behind by a certain blonde haired Slytherin. But she'd already lost one friend, she didn't want to jeopardise another.

And so she began to pull away, ready to apologise and return to her dorm where she wouldn't get a wink of sleep for worrying about what Harry must think of her, however to her surprise he stopped her, his fingers gently folding around her forearm to keep her in place.

As if he really had thought of her as more than just a friend all this time.


	3. No Intimate Acts In School

**A/N: Hey, sorry, this took so long, stupid internet went haywire on me _again_ -always happens this time of year, get a bit of wind and boom my incredibly slow internet (0.5 Broadband speed) somehows becomes even slower! Anyway, enough with my rant, here's the next chapter and enjoy. Oh, I'm in college for a week over Halloween so if I can I'll post two chapters to make this up to you. RxR.**

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><p><span>Chapter 35<span>

The 'No Intimate Acts In School' Regulation

He had never particularly thought much of children.

Just look at the first years: scruffy, ugly, buck-toothed sods. Thankfully he'd had much more taste at that age, not to mention he was attractive, and he had brains. But now, as he watched Filch put up another sign he found himself imagining how proud he would be to father someone like Umbridge, despite her horrible attire he had to admit he'd grown fond of her, she was the only defence teacher he'd come across who had no intention of falling at the great Harry Potter's stinking hobbit feet.

The walls were covered in numerous signs demanding that all students return to their dorms immediately after class, there would be no student activities besides school ones, all student must wear the proper uniform, have their shirts tucked in and keep themselves clean, and best of all those who spoke out of turn, as Potter so often did, would be -and have been before- punished. He grinned as he watched the newest sign being hung on the wall; it stated in big, bold writing that no students should be within eight inches of each other and that there would be no intimate acts in school. That was sure to put a stop to those foul rumours that had been eating away at him the past few days.

Draco Malfoy truly considered Umbridge to be the best thing that happened to Hogwarts, she was going to shake things up, no doubt if they gave it a few months she'd be Headmistress, Dumbledore will be tossed aside like the old goat he was and Potter and his band of imbeciles will be kicked out on their arses. He couldn't wait.

He made his way down the corridors to the Great Hall, proudly wearing his shiny, prefect badge. Oh, yes, this term was certainly looking up. The blonde smirked. Just wait until he saw Potter.

Draco sauntered lazily into the hall, it was a little after half seven in the morning and the place was mostly empty, with only a few students at each table, the bright sun beaming through the leaded windows, lighting up the place and giving him an optimistic attitude.

He noticed Granger sitting next to Potter as per bloody usual, what was odd though was that the pair were holding hands. His brow furrowed, his hands clenching into fists. He also noted they looked pretty damn cosy, in fact had done ever since the other evening. _No!_ He told himself. _They're just rumours! Get a hold of yourself for Merlin's sake!_

Draco ground his teeth as he noticed the Boy-Who-He-Wanted-To-Murder catch his eye, green met grey-blue with a silent threat, before he turned to Granger and whispered something in her ear, making her laugh, her entire face lighting up. Draco's scowl deepened. _He _used to make her face light up, but he hadn't done so in a long time. Not really since the Yule Ball and even then she'd run off to that idiot Krum.

He decided to deal with it the only way he knew how; he'd stroll over there, poke fun at the stupid Scarhead and walk on. It was a fail safe plan because he knew if Potter attempted to attack him, Granger would intervene. She always had. Look at third year, she absolutely loathed him back then yet she still stopped Potter from _trying _to base his brains in. And yes, he said 'trying'. Give Draco a real shot at Potter and he'd kill the sorry git.

"Heard Loony found someone else. Longbottom if I recall correctly." he drawled maliciously, he remembered witnessing the Ravenclaw ask the lanky, whimpy lad to Hogsmeade, "Must be tough, eh, Potter? Having to find another girl mad enough to take you on."

Draco watched as Granger snatched her hand away from Potter's, shifting her weight uncomfortably and glanced around, avoiding the blonde Slytherin,

"Actually Malfoy," Potty replied, taking Granger's hand once more, "I already have a new girlfriend."

He caught the faint smile that graced her lips despite her head being turned away from him,

"Oh, yeah?" Draco hissed, hoping for once that he was wrong, "Who?"

Potter smirked, not unlike Draco's trademark one,

"She's around here somewhere." he replied, his voice dripping with taunting sarcasm.

Granger turned to glare at Potter but the boy was too busy mockingly looking around the hall to notice, when he finally met her eyes,

"Right...here." he finished and kissed Granger's cheek.

Draco's heart stopped, his eyes immediately fell to the floor, he couldn't look up, he simply could not lift his head to see her smiling at Potty or whatever, there were knots in his stomach that continued to tighten and constrict as the image etched itself into his skull, he tried to erase it but couldn't, the agony was so intense he wanted to cry out, could feel the tears stinging his eyes. Why had she done that? What was she thinking going out with...with Potter? Couldn't she see he loved her and all this shit he put her through was to make sure she didn't get hurt, while Potter just dragged her into everything regardless?

It felt like there was vast bruising on his entire body, because everything, everywhere was pain, the blood had drained, making it harder to move, yet that was all he wanted to do, he wanted to run from the room, to crawl into some dark corner of his dorm and die. Without Granger his life would be so profoundly bleak. Had he really missed his chance? Were they over for good...whatever they were?

He managed to lift his head to grace the sick bastard Potter with his eyes, Draco nodded once, sarcastically,

"Fantastic, Potter. Really, a _mudblood_? Why am I not surprised?" he seethed quietly, "Suppose I'm just going to have to inform Professor Umbridge." he said, still refusing to look at Granger, though he could feel her glowering at him.

Potter rolled his eyes,

"Whatever you say, Malfoy, she has no right giving us detention for something so simple as a peck on the cheek!" Granger grown out, clearly angry by what she thought was pure arrogance.

Still he couldn't look at her, it hurt as it was, he certainly didn't want to see her face and find that only made it worse -_if _it could be worse, that is, which on one hand he doubted, though he wasn't willing to put that to the test. Not when it was his sanity on the line.

"Potty, kindly tell your filthy _friend_" –he said, with much emphasis on the last word- "here that as of this morning, Professor Umbridge does, in fact, have the authority to give detention to those violating the no intimate acts in school regulation."

"The _what_?" Katie Bell cut him off, a mocking, incredulous smile making its way onto her lips,

"Are you deaf?" he snapped, glaring daggers at Potter, "Or just stupid?"

"Oi!" the Oaf snarled,

"Point is you two have broken the rules..." his voice was cold and calculating as he tried to withdraw himself, to stomp out all emotion.

Draco told himself to act as he would if his father were there, three words rang in his ears, three words that if he listened to they just might stop him from bursting into tears right there at the Gryffindor table. _Be a bastard. Be a bastard. Be a bastard_.

And with what Granger had done, he saw no reason not to.

"And seeing as Professor Umbridge is good friends with my father and, quite rightly, loathes mudbloods and half-breeds, I'd say I'm on the winning side here."

Potter pulled out his wand, but Granger pushed it away. Usually Draco would have smirked, but nothing about today was usual.

"Don't." she whispered,

"Wise move, Granger." he breathed hoarsely, trying not to choke on the lump forming in his front at the image of her with the git he loathed more than anyone else in the wizarding world, "Be good now, Potty." and with that said, he took the moment of stunned silence as an opportunity to escape, he did his best not to look as if he were running from the hall but he knew from the speed his legs were carrying him that it was obvious.

He made it the desolate courtyard before he broke down, he stood there, his entire being trembling, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he toyed with the thought of turning around, storming back into the hall and telling Potter to sod off because Granger was his. He almost worked himself up enough to move his feet before he realised she didn't care, if she did she'd have never have gone to the insufferable little orphan in the first place. He'd half expected her to beg him to be with her after they got off the train, he'd wanted her to, where she was concerned he really couldn't say 'no', the few times he had it'd been immensely difficult, but of course she hadn't, he should have known she wouldn't, Granger was better than that and if there was one thing she would not stoop to it was begging.

Besides his pride and fear of rejection got in the way as well. She had already gotten over it. Now he had to do the same.

"Bloody Potter!" he said, venomously, "You'll be sorry you messed with me. Just wait, I'll gladly see to it you're with your precious mummy again!"

He was crying. How pathetic! He couldn't get the image out of his head, Granger laughing with _him_, holding_ his _hand, allowing_ him_ to touch her! _His_ filthy lips on her skin! It was disgusting! It was outright wrong! Draco let out a growl of frustration, running a hand through his hair, he threw a curse with his wand and hit a small crow, killing it outright. He winced; he hadn't meant to do that.

He heard footsteps and someone's breath behind him, he spun, drawing his wand, praying to Merlin it was Potter, with no witnesses he could easily _Avada_ him, unfortunately for him it wasn't. Instead it was a girl, a tall, slender, raven-haired Slytherin girl to be precise.

"Parkinson..." he mumbled, lowering his wand, she gave him a small smile,

"Expecting someone else?"

He blinked away the tears and cleared his throat, hands in his pockets,

"Thought you were Potter."

She nodded once, raising her eyebrows briefly,

"Well, I'm not." she replied, wrapping her arm around his waist and leading him back to the school.

Her thump caressed his back through his robes, she smiled up at him, he noted she was wearing a touch of make-up, as if it were an attempt to make her angular, elf-like features appear more in proportion, her eyes looked wider, her lashes darker, her skin marble.

Her feelings for him were more than just a passing fancy, weren't they? His stomach convulsed. She was pretty in her own right and she actually wanted him. So why did it feel wrong when he forced himself to smirk down at her? Why did he feel like he was betraying Granger with what he did next?

He pulled her in for a kiss, one that was based completely on a fraught need to feel cared for, she mistook his desperation for passion and pressed herself against him giving him no choice but to lean back a little, her hands matted in his hair, despite his longing to feel wanted, he soon started to compare her to Granger; Parkinson's body didn't seem to fit his like Granger's did, her scent wasn't that of dusty old books and muggle flowers, she didn't taste like peppermint, she didn't have this adorable awkwardness to her that Granger did.

Overall she just wasn't the girl he wanted.

Draco pulled back, forcing his signature grin in place, his breath ragged, his skin hot –he was young lad with needs, after all, it couldn't be helped.

"Broom closet. One o'clock. After Arithmancy." he panted, silently wondering why the words ever left his mouth.

He didn't wait for a response. He didn't need one, he knew she'd be there. Draco walked off, trying not to think about the topic revolving a bookworm and her self-righteous prat of a _friend_, instead he did his upmost best to look forward to the afternoon where he'd be learning all about the human body for the fourth time that week.

Parkinson's body that is.


	4. Prefect Duties

**A/N: I don't know about this one. They seem tired, don't they? Maybe because I need a good nights sleep. Anyway, I've updated at least! The next chapter should be up tonight, I just need to edit a few things. The song is mine btw, not a HP song, so tell me what you think. RxR ENJOY!**

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><p><span>Chapter 36 <span>

Prefect Duties

The past few weeks had been murder.

Everytime he saw he she was with Potter! Throwing each other secret glances across the classroom! Holding hands and snogging in 'empty' corridors! No, he wasn't stalking her. More, 'keeping an eye on her' sort of thing. Anyway, point was it was driving him mad. He had bags under his eyes from staying up most nights, he couldn't sleep for thinking about her. Why Potter? What was so special about him? Draco knew that if she stayed with Potty, he'd end up dragging her into another one of his messes and get her killed. So, Draco, being the genius that he was, decided to do everything in his power to drive Potter away from her. He'd start off small, torment Potter until he exploded in murderous rage, then, with any luck, by the end of term Potter's constant foul temper will have sabotaged the relationship. If that failed. He supposed he could always lock him away somewhere or even hand him over to Death Eaters. Granger will never know it was his doings and Draco would...

Well, he would do nothing. What could he do? Sure, he could try his hand at a relationship with her, try and keep it quiet, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. Somewhere along the line, someone would catch them and once his father heard the news they would both be as good as dead. Besides it's not like she even wanted a relationship with him. She'd grown far too pompous as of late. Potter must be rubbing off on her.

But if Draco couldn't have her then nobody else was getting her either.

He sauntered down the hall and sat down on one of the stone benches. It was a little after seven and the occasional students were still making their way to their private quarters -presumably they'd been given detention.

Umbridge really was the best thing that has happened to the school.

Slowly, one by one, his fellow students stopped passing him in the hall and the grey late evening sky turned to black. His back has become stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. Bored and fed up, Draco decided to make himself more comfortable and lay down on the bench, with one leg bent up, the other left to dangle over the edge of the seat. He pulled his wand from his pocket and began casting random spells to amuse himself.

It seemed like centuries before the eighth chime erupted from the clock tower, informing him that not only was Granger uncharacteristically late for their shared Prefect duties, but she was a whole _hour_ late.

Someone was humming a tune, one he'd recognise anywhere. It was that of the soppy, melodramatic Lorcan d'Eath song _Monster. _

_Leave, my love, leave me be, _

_There's blood on my hands, you see, _

_Stay, my love, stay away from me, _

_I am not the man you need, _

_I'm a monster, _

_Ready to tear you apart,_

_I'm a beast, _

_About to sink my teeth into your heart, _

_I, my sweet, love the smell of blood, _

_When it's flowing from a unicorn, _

_I, my sweet, can't hold you in my arms, _

_I am a ghost of the man you want. _

Draco closed his eyes and clenched his fists, about ready to slaughter the person who was now softly singing it, only when he remembered he was alone did he realise it was him who had been singing. He growled and continued singing the song as quietly as possible. He supposed he did quite like the song, but he wasn't prepared to let anyone else know that.

Someone cleared their throat. Draco shot bolt upright; he craned his neck as he snapped it round to see who was standing behind him.

Granger stood there, even in something so casual as jeans and a snugly fitting deep purple cardigan over a burgundy top she was beautiful. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, making her gentle brown eyes more mesmerising.

Draco stood, trying to ignore the longing in his gut.

"About time you got here." he said, harsher than he intended to be.

He just couldn't help it, he was growing ever more angry in her presence, because he knew she was with Potter and he knew that even if she wasn't he still couldn't have her, either way he lost out and Draco loathed losing.

"I don't often wait on people." he drawled, as he walked over to her, she glared at him in return, "You should consider yourself privileged, Granger, but for future reference: be on time."

Her eyes narrowed, he walked past her and continued to saunter off as if she wasn't there. Her hard footsteps behind him made her presence known, she came up beside him and shook her hair from her face. He kept his eyes forward, refusing to look at her. Childish, yes. But this is what emotion did to Draco Malfoy. Besides who was _she_ to make _him _succumb to tears? Actual tears? _No, never again_. He told himself. So what he wanted her? He wasn't going to get her. So he wasn't going to even try.

"_Sorry."_ came her voice, sounding scathingly sarcastic, "Suppose I lost track of time. I was with Harry, you see, and they say it flies when you're with people you love."

His guts dropped, his legs became weak, causing him to stop in his tracks. A lump formed in his throat, it made his voice hoarse when he spoke,

"Funny, I didn't think it was possible for anyone to feel anything other than pity for Potter." he spat in reply.

Granger's jaw went slack, eyes bulging. Draco knew she was flabbergasted, not because of what he'd said, –in fact, he'd said much worse about the Boy-Who-Lived- Granger was shocked by his apparent indifference to her statement. He allowed himself a triumphant smirk. _Serves her right, stupid mudblood._ He thought, smugly.

Rather than allow her anger to get the better of her, Granger simply sighed,

"I'm not talking to you." she breathed, sounding tired.

With that she turned her head and began walking at a slightly faster pace than necessary.

"Good."

They had up until at least midnight to do their shared rounds, it wouldn't take them long; they both knew the school like the back of their hand, they could do it blindfolded. Draco said nothing. He saw no reason to. Talking seemed to do them no good, he certainly didn't want anymore insults to come from her mouth. He was sensitive to people's harsh remarks, they always seemed to remind him of his father, his Aunt, his cold, cruel family, but where she was concerned each word felt like a knife in his back, where she was concerned it hurt tenfold.

They made it to the Quidditch pitch before she spoke again,

"I didn't know you were dating Pansy Parkinson. In fact, I was under the impression you couldn't stand the girl."

This got to him. What business of hers was it who he dated? She hadn't cared to tell him she had feelings for Potter prior to that day in the Great Hall. She didn't care that he stopped speaking after they kissed because it would be better for them both, because it would be easier for them both. She hadn't taken note of his silent apologises or pleas for her to understand. So, why now did she think she had a right to be inquisitive?

Annoyed, Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes, his hands in his pockets,

"I could say the same about you! Hypocrisy is such an ugly trait, don't you think?" he ground out, attempting to make his tone sickly sweet, all his managed was gravel.

A gasp escaped her throat, she blew air out of her nostrils, lips pressed in a hard line, chest rising and falling rapidly with anger,

"I cannot believe you'd even think that! How dare you? I am most certainly not the hypocrite here!"

Draco walked on to the fore, running a hand through his hair, he turned to look at her. Really look at her for the first time that night. How could she do this to him? How was it possible that she could make him feel so safe and yet put him on the brink of self-destruction all at the same time? How was it humanly possible to feel so much at once? All these questions whizzed through his head, he only had to look at her to understand, because when he was with her, even the most complex things made sense. She brought order to his chaos, he supposed. She sorted the pieces out until they all fell into place for him. Looking into her perfect brown orbs he knew he would never have to question the reason behind his existence again. He was her other half, she was his, and they were put on this world to torture one another. Why? Because fate was sick like that. He wanted her so much, more so now that he'd had a taste of what things could be like, but it was impossible.

It was suicidal.

He let his gaze fall to the ground, his guard slipping without him meaning to let it, he blew out a breath, then immediately sucked it back in shakily,

"You know what, Granger?"

"What?" she crossed her arms and raised her brows mockingly, he pinched the bridge of his nose,

"Never mind. I can't be bothered fighting with you anymore. We'll split, I'll take this half of the grounds," he gestured to the left, "you take that half."

She nodded, her brow furrowed, anger decreasing. They stayed like that for a few minutes, neither making any attempt to move, merely staring each other. In the end, Draco rolled his head in exasperation and turned on his heel to walk away. He had made it twenty-two feet from her before she called him back, he turned, a cynical look on his face. He was tired, in every sense of the word. It had been weeks since he'd gotten a good nights sleep and seeing her with Potter had made so many fierce emotions rear their heads, now he just felt completely drained. He didn't want to fight anymore. He wanted things to go back to the way they were last term. Where nothing was expected to come from their friendship, where they were equals, where they could talk without spitting snide insults at one another.

He was tired of being hurt by her words.

"Why are you with Parkinson?"

Draco stared at her, the shutters pulled down, his face giving nothing away. He shook his head about to walk away again, at the last minute he decided against it and instead took a few steps closer to her,

"Why are you with Potter?" he countered.

She seemed taken aback by the vulnerability this topic provided for the both of them.

"Because he makes me happy?" she said it like a question.

He laughed, a full, deep, angry chuckle, which only served to irritate her. So strong, it caused him to bend over double, he was sure that everyone inside the castle could hear. It took him a while to sober, when he did she was rapping her foot against the cobblestone path, nothing about her posture had changed except that she was now holding her wand and had a very menacing expression. She was going to hex him, was she? Draco stared at the wand, emphasising the wooden stick so much so that she seemed to become a little uncomfortable with it. He gave her a daring look, he knew her well enough to know that if he crossed the line she would hex him. Granger had an awful temper at times, but then so did he.

She jutted out her chin in pride and chewed her cheek.

"You never answered my question." she said firmly.

Draco sneered at her,

"Because it's easy." the words came from his mouth before he could do much to stop them, maybe he was growing a backbone, maybe he was becoming more and more foolish overtime, either way he didn't run away like he would have a year or two ago. "That's why I'm with Parkinson."

Seeing red, Granger stalked over to him, she pointed her wand at him, her pretty face contorted with fury, eyes blazing. She stopped maybe four feet from him, her hands at her side, trembling with rage, wand aimed at the grass below.

"Have you ever, _ever_ in your life given a damn about anyone else? Do you actually care about how Parkinson feels?" she pulled a face, one filled with hope and dread for the same answer, "Even just a tad?"

He shook his head,

"I care!" he spat and crossed the small distance between them, "I care quite a bit. What about you? Did _you_ ever think about me when you decided to go sticking your tongue down Potter's throat?" he asked, his voice so low it was barely a whisper, but it was hard and cold as steel. He knew he was so close she would feel his breath on her cheek. He touched her hand, wanting to hold it.

Immediately, she nodded and started to say 'yes', Draco smiled a little, his lips just slightly turning up at the corners, but then she snatched her hand away and said;

"Don't you dare blame me. You started this, Draco!"

His eyes narrowed into tiny slits, he gave a sardonic nod, lip curling. So, she was blaming him now, was she? He growled in frustration,

"This isn't a game anymore, Granger!" Draco ground out, teeth gritted, he looked away for a moment before turning back to her, "And it's about time you grew up."

She glowered at him,

"I have!" she snapped, staggering back a few feet "And in case you haven't noticed I got tired of waiting for you to make up your bloody mind!"

He scowled, hurt and angered by her accusations and the way she never failed to pin the blame onto him when all he was trying to do was make things better. No, he wasn't too good at it but at least he tried. Which was more than what anyone would be able to say for Potter.

"I made up my mind that first day on the Astronomy Tower." he murmured.

Granger blinked a few times and let out a shaky breath, she shook her head, sheer determination and stubbornness were all that her features revealed,

"No! No. I'm with Harry now. And, no, you don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it!"

They stood their, chests rising and falling, breath coming out in hot pants. On the surface it seemed they were glowering at each other, underneath it all they were merely pleading with one another.

"OI!" a gruff voice called to them.

Draco rolled his head,

"Oh great." he sneered again, Granger's death glare intensified as Hagrid came bumbling over to them.

"Hagrid, is everything alright?" she asked when the half-giant bent double trying to catch his breath. Granger discreetly slipped her wand into her jeans pocket and waited patiently for Hagrid to regain his regular breathing pattern, -it took him a few attempts but eventually he got in enough air to talk- while Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets and began pacing the courtyard, his lips turned down at the cornered and his nostrils flaring.

She just didn't get it, did she?

"Well, what's goin' on 'ere?" he heard the giant half-breed ask, the giant lowered his voice to a whisper, but Draco could still here, "Malfoy's not givin' you a hard time, is 'e?"

"No, everything's fine." she paused, "We were just...settling a disagreement."

Draco scoffed, he turned to face them and stood there while Granger glared at him as usual, Hagrid just looked confused and suspicious,

"We were discussing Granger's love life." he said smoothly, Hagrid's frown deepened, "See, I don't think Potter suits her. Do you?"

Hagrid gazed at him for a long time, bewildered, before he answered the question, he nodded,

"I think Harry and 'Ermione make a lovely couple." his eyes became dark, "What are ya gettin' at, Malfoy?"

The blonde gave a malicious, hard-hearted smirk,

"Never mind. Oh and Granger, I know you're a mudblood-" Hagrid opened his mouth to say something but Draco didn't let him, "-but I would assume even you're kind have standards."

With that he walked off, he half expected her to follow him, to hex him, but she didn't. Which was a good thing, mind you. He needed a moment to think and right now he wasn't sure whether he wanted to kiss her or murder her.


	5. Breaking the Rules

**A/N: I'm still not sure if this flows well enough with the last chapter. Anyway, please tell me what you think. Fifth year has given me hell and any help/feedback would be awesome. Enjoy! **

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><p><span>Chapter 37<span>

Breaking the Rules

She couldn't believe it. _Finally!_ Finally they were going to learn something useful, they were going to be educated again, it was the only good thing that had come out of this entire year and it was all because of Harry, because he was willing to teach them!

Hermione beamed happily at him and he smirked.

She was grateful for that smile of his; it eased the fear in her chest. She had had a horrible a inkling that Harry hadn't fully gotten over his feelings for Cho, if his occasional staring was anything to go by, that is. The girls in her dorm were constantly trying to warn her that he might stray. She had to admit she was rather worried herself. Cho was beautiful and Hermione found herself becoming jealous. Harry tried to reassure her in small ways, but the feeling never quite went away.

It didn't matter today though, today she was going to be happy.

Hermione let go of him and walked on a little, a bounce in her step, so keyed up she didn't even feel the bitter chill in the air. It was November and they were crossing the walkway that led from the Shrieking Shack back to Hogsmeade where they'd decided to get a couple of Butterbeers to celebrate the birth of Dumbledore's Army.

"Harry..." Neville said, tentatively, "What if Umbridge finds out?"

"Yeah," Ron cut in before Harry had even opened his mouth to reply, "Malfoy's been following us around like a man possessed!"

It was true. Ever since that day in the Great Hall Draco had made it his mission of sorts to make Harry's life complete and utter hell, as if telling Umbridge on them wasn't bad enough –not to mention childish- he continued to be a right git to Harry. For instance, she recalled Katie telling her about one afternoon where Harry had been heading to Defence class when Crabbe had knocked his books out of his hands, scattering them all over the floor, and before Harry even had a second to do anything, Draco had then informed Umbridge that Harry was 'littering school grounds' and 'not taking proper care of school textbooks'. According to Katie, Draco had already demanded Harry pick all eight of them up without using magic beforehand, resulting in Harry being late for class which then resulted in Umbridge having a right go at him and giving him yet another severe detention.

Draco had always been a git to Harry but now he was being downright evil, the blonde had been snatching up any chance he could get to torment and punish him. She knew he was hurting, he'd made that clear during their shared Prefect duties, but really, was that any excuse? She didn't think so. Seeing him with Parkinson that night had killed her. She hadn't gone around tormenting the Slytherins, had she?

"Who cares?" she replied, giving a small laugh.

If a certain Slytherin was allowed to throw the rulebook out the window then why couldn't they? She was fully fed up of him and Umbridge anyway, both were far too power-hungry for their own good, they needed to be taught a lesson in humility! Predominantly, that horrible old gargoyle.

"I mean, it's sort of exciting isn't it? Breaking the rules?"

Harry was grinning at her, not quite believing what he was hearing,

"Blimey, Harry, what have you done to her?" Ron muttered to the Boy-Who-Lived, who just shrugged and turned to look at her,

"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" he asked, still smiling.

She laughed whole-heartedly,

"I'm just saying it's a nice change."

"Do you think that's someone else, using a Polyjuice Potion, and the _real_ Hermione is trapped somewhere?" she heard Ron whisper to Harry,

"Nah. Think about it; the only reason she's pleased is because she's actually going to be learning magic again."

Hermione playfully raised her brows at him, crossing her arms over her chest, while Harry put an arm round her and gave her a small kiss on the lips,

"Oh, yeah, you're right." the auburn-haired boy agreed.

She rolled her eyes as they headed towards the Three Broomsticks, with Ron, Neville, Luna, Cho, Ernie Macmillan and that annoying girl Lavender Brown all following behind.

She pushed open the tick wooden door to the pub, hesitating a first as she expected to be told to leave, but when the barkeep gave a court nod –clearly mistaking them for being old enough- she ushered the others in and the eight of them took their seats on the worn leather sofa around the oak table, both which were significantly too small for the whole lot of them.

"Right," Ron said, rubbing his hands together eagerly, "who's gonna get the drinks?"

"Neville!" Ernie volunteered, giving the dark-haired boy a pat on the back, Neville looked like a deer in headlights,

"Er...um, I-I don't thin-"

"Hermione can go. She's older than the rest of us." Lavender put in, looking seductively up at Ron under her long lashes, causing him to blush a little, she gave a girlish giggle that hurt Hermione's ears, "Not that you actually look old or anything..." she said in a snarky tone, addressing her now, "It's just the way you dress."

She glared at the blonde, incredulous, wondering how anyone could be so blatantly rude. Just because she didn't dress like a tart with short floral skirts and big bows in hair did not mean that she was old or boring for goodness sakes! Hermione had an incredible urge to tell her this, but decided against it; dim-witted ignoramus girly-girls like Lavender just weren't worth her time.

"I like how Hermione dresses." Harry came to her defence, she smiled,

"You sure you don't prefer it when she undresses?" Ernie winked at him.

The group –with the exception of Harry- erupted into laughter, while Hermione turned a sharp pink colour,

"I-I...er...um...I-" the Boy-Who-Lived stuttered,

"Ernest Macmillan! Don't be so crude!"

"It was a joke, Hermione." Ernie said, standing, "Anyway, I'll go. God forbid they ask your age! Even if you are old enough, I doubt they'll believe _you_, you'll have us all thrown out."

He collected the galleons from the table and headed up to the bar. Hermione watched his form vanish amongst a crowd of people. She was thankful that he'd gone up –if still embarrassed by his remark. It was the first time she'd ever been to a bar and she certainly didn't feel like going up to order the drinks.

It wasn't long before Ernie returned with a tray of drinks, he handed one to each of them and took his seat beside Neville. They all raised their glasses, bringing each one together to make a clinking noise_, _

"Cheers." they all said in unison,

"To the DA!" Harry announced,

"To the DA!" Cho repeated softly, smiling at him.

Hermione noticed the exchange but said nothing. She smiled into her drink when Harry -instead of attempting to flirt with Cho like he would have last year- placed his hand in hers.

Though, admittedly, she felt a tad guilty when she saw Cho's face fall.

"They're really lovely earrings, Cho." Hermione said, both in honesty and an attempt to make the girl feel better,

"Thanks." she replied shyly, sipping her eggnog "They were my mum's."

Hermione smiled at her and took another drink of her Butterbeer.

"Er...'Mione, you've got a bit of...um..." Harry made a gesture by touching his finger to his cheek, she frowned at him,

"What?"

The boy smiled and traced his thump along her mouth, moping up the white foam off her upper lip. He sucked the foam off his thumb without a thought and wiped his thumb on his jeans. He blushed a little when he saw Hermione was staring at him with an eyebrow cocked,

"What?" it was his turn to ask, self-consciously.

She clouted him round the back off the head,

"Ow!"

"Table manners, Harry." she said, humour evident in her tone, she rolled her eyes, "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

Harry nudged her playfully, scooping up a bit of foam from his own drink and attempting to smear it on her face. She giggled and pushed him away. The two of them having a little food fight. In the end, he managed to get a small amount of foam on her forehead, right above her eyebrow.

"Harry!" she scolded.

She wiped the foam off her forehead and touched the white, fluffy substance to his cheek, he laughed in reply, and she kissed his cheek where the foam sat.

Their eyes met and they both smiled. The pair now completely unaware of Cho's longing expression.

After a moment in which she fiercely blushed a deep pink, Hermione shook her head and turned back to the rest of the group -who were now laughing about Umbridge's possible reaction when the uprising gives her her just desserts. Their laughter was full and happy.

It sobered quickly though when a blonde haired Slytherin stopped no less than five feet from their table.

Her eyes met his and whatever it was that passed between them, it caused a mix of nostalgia and pain to well inside her. She had butterflies again, but they weren't the nice kind. With him they were_ never_ the nice kind. She bit her lip, pointedly avoiding his gaze yet she could still feel his on her,

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry said, his tone arrogant and dripping with enmity.

"Come to tattle on us again, have you?" Lavender put in, surprisingly brave for the dimbo that she was.

After a few minutes of deafening quiet, Hermione looked up to make certain he was really there and it wasn't just a play of her imagination. Oh, he was there and he was staring at her, an odd expression on his face, as if he'd lost something and he was trying to figure out how to get it back. _Well._ An angry voice in the back of her head said. _It's not like he deserves my friendship or anything else for that matter! And with the way he's been acting lately! _

"What's the matter? Not so tough without you're bodyguards?" Ernie snickered.

She watched his face smooth out into a flawless mask of nothing. The emotions, the hurt, the humanity that had once been there was gone. His nostrils flared, his jaw tightened but that was it. Anger was the only thing he allowed himself to reveal. She'd known him long enough to figure it was his defence mechanism.

He was in pain. So was she but he didn't care!

"Watch your attitude, Macmillan! And, yeah, Professor Umbridge has a right to know how unruly her students are and I am a prefect after all-" he glanced a Harry, a snide insult aimed at him, "Just for your blatant rudeness I think I'll give each of you detention, maybe Umbridge can teach you a thing or two about manners."

"Draco..." Hermione murmured, her eyes searching his face.

He swallowed hard, his apologetic frown being forcefully shifted into a pitiless sneer,

"Don't!" he snapped, glaring daggers at her, his coldness causing her to wince, "Don't you ever use my first name to address me again, _Mudblood_! That honour is retained for those who merit my attention!"

Tears began to sting her eyes at his harshness, not to mention that word...one he was throwing her way more regularly now that she and Harry were dating and even after all these years it still cut as deeply as it had the very first time it'd left his mouth.

She shook her head slightly, trying to blink away the tears,

"You know what, Malfoy?" Harry said, slamming his drink down hard on the table, "Tell her everything. Tell her everything you can think of. Run off to your Death Eater daddy and tell him what a horrible lot we are 'cause in the end you'll lose. Because unlike us, you won't have anyone backing you up when Voldemort decides even _he's_ fed up with you!"

The table went quiet at the mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Draco jutted his chin out in defiance, nodding sardonically,

"And you know what, Potter?" he countered, Harry raised his eyebrows at him, "Drop dead."

She watched Draco walk off, he glanced back at her only to see the Boy-Who-Lived's arm around her, Draco's mouth turned down at the corners, his shoulders slumped, and when he left, he didn't look back.

"You alright?" Harry asked, concerned.

She nodded, but said nothing. Downing the rest of her Butterbeer, she rested her elbow on the table and propped her chin up with her hand.

Doing her best to smile and laugh along with the others when the occasion arose but ultimately she was tired, she didn't care for crude jokes about the horrible gargoyle, she was too busy trying to tidy her thoughts. Too busy trying to convince herself not to commiserate with Draco, he was the one who rid them of all possibilities of a proper relationship, if anything this was what he wanted, wasn't it? Besides she was with Harry and she was happy. Harry respected her, he cared about her and she cared about him too. It would take a while to move on from what she and Draco had, but she knew Harry could offer her so much more.

He would be there for her against all odds.

That meant something.


	6. The Wonders and Woes of Mistletoe

**A/N: Woohoo me, I got this up earlier than I thought I would. Well, enjoy and tell me what you think. X**

**Also I'm dedicating this to JoannaAlwaysAnd4Eva on YouTube who helped inspire my love of Dramione in the first place. I never got around to mentioning that before but I am now. I don't have a YT account, but hopefully she'll see this. **

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><p><span>Chapter 38<span>

The Wonders and Woes of Mistletoe

Draco dropped himself onto the royal green sofa beside Parkinson. His face, as ever, was contorted into an ugly scowl.

His girlfriend –or whatever she was- didn't mind though, he'd always been an irritable person. For all she knew he could have been angry at those intolerable first years or the hag McGonagall reprehending him for using his Inquisitorial powers to torment his peers, but either way his mood wasn't something she fretted over. Of course though, it wasn't anything along those lines that had him so wired. It was the same problem he'd been trying to deal with his entire childhood; his disintegrating relationship with the girl he loved.

It was a common quandary with him, yet no-one knew, they just assumed it was Draco being...well, Draco.

Parkinson, who'd once been curled up at the end of the sofa allowing a charmed pot of black varnish to paint her nails, lay down and rested her head in his lap. Usually, he'd have done what what expected of him and stroked her hair. Today, he couldn't be bothered.

He was too lost in his own thoughts and the realisation that every hour, every minute Granger was growing to hate him even more. With his foul temper lately and Potter twisting her thoughts, it would only be a matter of time before he would lose her completely and he didn't want that.

However, he didn't know if he would ever have her back.

He'd pushed her too far. Barely speaking to her, calling her a mudblood practically everytime he_ did_ speak to her, taunting her, docking points every chance he got. All in all, Draco Malfoy had to admit that he was being a complete and total arse.

The blonde Slytherin pinched the bridge of his mind, wanting nothing more than to escape his own thoughts and the memories of how things used to be between him and Granger. He remained like that for a few moments. Nothing happened. Why did he expect it to? He knew nothing would ever change. It never did. Even after all these years, telling himself he hated her, trying desperately to avoid her, he always came crawling back in the end. She was his reason for being, though, as luck would have it, it was her that had ruined him.

Draco sighed and Parkinson sat up, her expression not only worried but slightly annoyed also,

"What is wrong with you? You've been like this all bloody week!" she said, trying to keep her voice comforting.

It shocked him to think she might be getting fed up with his depressive mood, seeing as Parkinson was normally all over him despite it.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her pixie-like, unpropertioned face almost as darkly brooding as his own,

"Well,_ I_ want to know."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it." he snapped back, aware that Zabini was watching closely.

Parkinson saw the dark-skinned lad give the blonde a haughtily knowing look to which the blonde returned a silent warning and plea in the same few seconds. When Draco turned back to her he saw the cogs working in her head and the angry confusion that crossed her face.

"I'm not going to let this lie, Draco."

He blew out a breath, is nostrils flaring, skin becoming hot. Zabini's grin disturbed him to no end. He wondered how much longer he supposed 'mate' was going to keep quiet, after all Zabini did love stirring trouble.

Draco turned back to Parkinson, her coal black orbs eyeing him suspiciously, her jaw set stubbornly. He suppressed a growl of frustration. All he wanted was to be left alone. Since when was his mood ever a problem for her? Since when did she feel she had the right to interrogate him? Since when did she start bossing him about? As far as he was concerned that was Granger's forte, not Parkinson's.

"A problem shared _is_ a problem halved, Malfoy." Zabini said coyly.

Parkinson rested her hand on his, gripping his hand tightly, her eyes bore into his,

"Tell me." she murmured gently.

He pulled his hand away and rubbed his forehead,

"Enough!" his voice came out coarse, "You couldn't possibly even begin to understand it!"

Parkinson recoiled, her body tensing, she was clearly offended by his lack of trust in her and his derogative remark concerning her intelligence. Well, she wasn't the brightest cat's eye in the cauldron, was she?

Zabini snorted into the spell book he was reading,

"Too right. I, for one, think it's sick."

This time Draco did growl, he clenched his fists, glowering at the dark skinned lad opposite him, who only smiled maliciously in reply.

"I don't recall asking your opinion on the matter!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Parkinson's chest rising and falling. He turned to find her face full of emotion, all which were slowly replaced with one that had been there from the very moment she asked what was wrong: dread.

"What are you two on about?" she demanded shrilly, looking almost neurotic.

Draco opened his mouth to say it was nothing, but Zabini cut him off,

"Oh, don't be stupid!" he spat, rolling his eyes, "You know exactly what we're talking about." -Draco's eye's widened- "You were always ranting in first year how she was going to 'steal him away' from you, well, truth is she did. I'm actually surprised you'd still want him knowing how far he's fallen."

By now, Parkinson's eyes shone with tears,

"Imagine a Malfoy and a m-"

"_Silencio!" _

Draco's curse hit the lad full force, knocking his head back.

Zabini seemed unfazed however, seeing as he made no attempt to talk. He merely laughed soundlessly. Looking somewhat like the moving pictures in the _Daily Prophet_.

The blonde boy stood there for a few minutes, his face menacingly dark, his sneer deeper than ever, his lip curled. The hand around his wand shook with the effort not to hex his 'friend' into oblivion. His mind was reeling at how close he'd come to being outed.

"Is it true?" Parkinson's broken voice snapped him out of his irate stupor.

He kept his eyes everywhere but her face, though he couldn't shut out her gasp or the angry, hurt sobs that followed.

So rather than stand there like the prat he was with the rest of the Slytherin common room staring at them, Draco ran, slamming the heavy chamber door behind him.

He stormed down the halls, brows furrowed and his face pulled into a look of panic. What was he going to do? The _Silencio_ spell only lasted so long! Now Parkinson knew too! It would only be a matter of hours –days at best- before this spread around the whole school, before it got back to his father! His guts were knotted painfully tight, a thick lump had formed in his throat, tears stung his eyes. What was he going to do?He half ran down the corridors, wanting to get as far away from his common room as possible. He needed to get away from this place. He didn't care where he went, he just didn't want to be here anymore.

A deep reverberating noise caught his attention, he stopped mid-run and turned to his left to find a large, ornate door forming in the wall.

The Room of Requirement.

The place where Potter and Granger had set up that stupid Dumbledore's Army. He thought about walking on; he was in no way in the mood for Potter right now, even if it meant giving him up to Umbridge. But then he figured there was very little chance they'd be up and about at this hour.

He gripped the handle and pushed the door open slowly, he entered the room and looked around. It was exactly his kind of place, filled to the brim with magical bits and bobs, including books and record players. There was even a grand piano under a thick layer of dust. He thought about giving it a go, he loved music and he'd always wanted to learn to play an instrument of some sort, of course his father thought it a useless talent and refused to pay for a tutor.

Draco sighed and gave the room another once over, not quite feeling alone. It was then he noticed only half of the room was as he wanted it and there was an invisible wall separating him from the other side, which was a large vacant space with a few mirrors and a fireplace.

The wall seemed to swirl and ripple. Draco frowned, confused. The room wasn't supposed to be like this. It was meant to meet the needs of the people in it, wasn't it? The realisation struck him that he'd been right. He wasn't alone. The room must have been stretching itself to give two people what they needed most. Intrigued, Draco wandered a little further into the room, hoping that whoever else was there couldn't see or hear him.

What he saw was two figures, snogging under the mistletoe. Draco rolled his eyes. From the looks of things it was just Chang and some bloke, he couldn't make out who the lad was since he had his back to him.

Overall the Slytherin wasn't particularly interested, he was about to turn around and leave when the two pulled away from each other.

Draco shook with anger. _How dare he?_ His head screamed. _How dare he? _His hands balled into fists like they had in the common room. Without even realising it, he pulled out his wand and, without meaning to, ended up firing a curse at the pair. The curse paced through the wall, becoming invisible itself and just missed the pair's heads, hitting one of the mirrors instead and shattering it.

Chang squealed and Potter pulled her close, scanning the room frantically,

"What was that?" she asked,

"Don't know, but it looks like nothing good."

She made an attempt to kiss him again but, lucky for him, he turned his head away. If he hadn't Draco wouldn't have been able to control his rage. He'd have fired another curse and this time he'd have killed the lying bastard.

"I'm sorry, Cho, but I can't...Hermione..."

Granger.

Draco's heart fractured. He remembered that night of their shared Prefect duties, when he'd asked her why she was with Potter, she'd said it was because he made her happy. Yes, she'd answered it like a question, but, despite that, Draco could see it was true. Potter had made her happy. It killed him to know she wanted someone else, that she loved someone else, but it was true.

Now what was going to happen? Draco breaking her heart was one thing. He'd warned her he wasn't good for her. Potter hadn't. In fact, Potter had lured her in like a moth to flame, and for what?

To watch her burn.

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><p>Hermione walked down the corridor, carrying a mound of large books she'd taken from the library. She wanted to know as much as she possibly could about the spells they were learning with Harry. She needn't worry if anyone saw her either, she was a Prefect for goodness sakes, she was allowed to wander the halls at night if she deemed necessary.<p>

Besides, it wasn't like she cared what Umbridge thought of it all.

She carried on down the halls, the books beginning to slip from her sweaty palms. Her parents had raised her to not use magic for every little thing, but she simply couldn't hold the books anymore -each was about four or more inches thick with at least eighty thousand pages.

Her arms were getting tired and she needed a moment to rest, but she couldn't reach her wand and the nearest bench was another twelve feet away. With a sigh, Hermione walked over to the bench. Each step made no difference to the distance. In fact, she might as well have been walking backwards. Her hair had come loose from her plait and was falling in front of her eyes.

Just another seven feet and she would be able to sit down and no longer have to crane her neck to see where she was going.

She didn't get very far, however, because right that moment someone crashed into the back her. Hermione collapsed with someone's body on top of her own, the heavy load of books scattered across the ground. She groaned.

"Bastard! Just wait til I get my hands on him! I'll kill the maggot!"

Her furrowed brow deepened. It was a voice she'd know anywhere, she turned her head to find short blonde hair hanging over her shoulder.

"Malfoy?" she said, and the lad looked up, "Would you mind getting off me?"

She couldn't see his face from this angle, but she was sure she heard him gulp.

"Yeah, sorry."

Within a few seconds the weight of him was lifted and she could breath again, his elbow now longer digging into her spinal cord. Despite his slender frame, Draco felt like a ton of bricks on top of her, she began to blush as she thought about the modest muscles he'd attained over the years. He certainly wasn't the skinny little boy she remembered meeting on the train four years ago. He had grown up she supposed.

Hermione clambered to her knees with another groan, unaware that he'd been holding his hand out to her for some time now. His hands wound around her arms to help her stand and to steady her. They stared at each other for a moment.

She had to admit he looked a mess, face slack and hair tousled, she faintly saw a red lining around his eyes. Had he been crying? Hermione frowned. Draco rarely cried...not unless they'd had an argument or something and even then he tried to hide it, but right now, he was making no attempt to hide anything.

The pain, the anger, the loathing. All of it was displayed blatantly on his face.

"Are you alright?" she asked, having long forgotten about the cascaded books.

His eyes searched her face. The heart-wrenching emotion bleeding out of him. She'd never seen him leave himself so open, so vulnerable. Even on the Astronomy Tower, when they kissed...even then he was holding something back. Not now though. No, now he was showing her everything and, honestly, it scared her. She'd never thought Draco was capable of such emotion, but there he was with an indescribable look on his beautiful face.

"Do you love him?" he asked, voice broken.

"What?" she was baffled by his behaviour.

He was being so completely un-Draco, she supposed. There really was no other way to explain it other than he wasn't acting anything like himself.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, he was shaking and mumbling to himself and Hermione began to worry that he was mentally unstable.

"Just answer the question!"

"Malfoy, not this again." she replied, wanting nothing more than to dodge that particular question.

It was one she hadn't quite answered herself yet.

And also because she wasn't sure he was in the right state of mind for this topic of conversation, after all when they talked about Harry they usually ended up fighting and with Draco acting as he was that was the last thing she wanted to do.

He growled and, much to her puzzlement, starting ranting and pacing the width of the hall,

"This isn't about me being a jealous prat, alright, Granger? I'm an arse, I know! But forget about me," –she frowned, something was definitely off- "let's say I don't exist or-or we're not...whatever we were. In that case, do you love, Potter?"

She laughed it off and waved her wand, allowing magic to collect the books while she made her way down the hall once again with Draco hurriedly following her.

"Well?" he demanded, "

"Well, what, Malfoy?" Hermione asked casually,

"Do you or don't you? Because there's something you need to know about Pott-"

Hermione clenched her jaw and nodded in understanding, she saw where he was going with this. She didn't know why she even bothered to think he'd change. Turning to the blonde, Hermione angrily jabbed her finger at him,

"I cannot believe I was actually worried about you. My god, don't you understand I've had enough? I am officially at my wits end with you! One minute you're my best friend, then for the rest of the time you're a total...ugh, there isn't even a word to describe you!"

He took a step back, seeming physically hurt by her cutting tone,

"Don't take me for an idiot, Malfoy, I know what you're game is. You're here to poke holes in my relationship. Well, guess what? I do love Harry. Now can we drop this?"

Draco closed his eyes, he inhaled once before looking at her again, there were tears there, his face as solemn as if someone he loved had died. Guilt took over, Hermione let out a breath, feeling as if she'd just kicked an injured house-elf.

"Draco, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

He jutted his chin out but kept his eyes on the ground, hands shoved in his pocket, shoulders slumped. Her heart broke just at the sight of him,

"I do love, Harry." she said, earnestly and rather apologetically too, "But I-"

He shook his head and shrugged,

"That was all I needed to know."

And with that he walked off.

Hermione bit her lip, she had never hated herself more than she did right then. Never had her skin crawled in shame, never had she felt sick to her stomach at something she herself had done. She stood there, unable to move. It wasn't until she realised he must think she hated him that she knew she had to go after him. Hermione pushed her limbs out to him, forcing herself to move, to run.

"Draco!" she called, trying to catch up with him, "Draco, please, just listen!"

She had to make him understand that, yes, she loved Harry, although not in the way she loved him. What she had with Harry may have transcended friendship, but what she had with Draco ran deeper than anything else.

The word 'love' didn't even begin to cover what she felt for him.

Hermione rounded the corner only to find he was gone.


	7. House of Cards

**A/N: Woohoo, we got to ten! Thank you everyone who voted and I will do my absolute best when it comes to Malfoy Manor, but for now enjoy this EARLY chapter. X **

**(Btw I changed the chapter title just 'cause I think this one is better suited)**

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><p><span>Chapter 39<span>

House of Cards

Hermione stood atop of the Astronomy Tower and sealed the envelope that contained an apology and, despite her pride, quite a bit of pleading. She traced her thumb over her neat, no-nonsense script.

_Draco Malfoy_.

She sighed. It had been weeks since she'd snapped at him and in those weeks she'd been trying to work up the courage to apologise to him face to face. Thing was everytime she convinced herself she had no choice, everytime she tried to talk to him, he would turn on his heel and walk the other way. In the end she decided this way would probably be easier for the both of them.

Hermione gave the envelope to the owl. She stroked his feathers once before sending him on his way.

At least she wouldn't have to see him look at her like that again. Hermione had only ever once seen sadness similar to Draco's that night and that in Harry's eyes at the death of Cedric Diggory.

Harry was acting particularly odd as of late. He was quieter than usual and he was growing more and more distant each day. She knew he wasn't sleeping, that the fear of Voldemort's return and the pressure of being leader of the DA had put him very much on edge, but that wasn't all. Hermione didn't understand the nagging voice in the back of her head or the churning in her gut. She simply knew something about him was off and she didn't like it one bit.

Hermione made her way down the steps that lead to the long corridors.

With Umbridge in charge Hogwarts looked nothing like its former self. There was the occasional Christmas decoration hanging about, but they lacked the lustre and beauty that they once held. In fact, if it wasn't for the cold-bearing ornaments she wouldn't have known it was December twenty-forth.

Luckily they had two weeks off for the holidays. Usually, no exams or studies would have killed Hermione, this term though it was a relief –one she welcomed with open arms.

She hugged herself as she let her feet sink into the deep, crisp snow. Her cream woollen hat, plum scarf and navy gloves did nothing to protect her from the cold. Her breath still came out in the form of fog-like condensation. Hermione spotted Harry sitting on a tree root, reading a book. As she drew closer, she saw the deep frown that made him look less like the Boy-Who-Lived and more like a troubled man, it made him look older somehow, more world-wary.

Hermione made her way over to her boyfriend. She saw his eyes flicker up for the briefest moment. He tried to act like he hadn't heard or seen her coming, his head very much buried in the book, yet his eyes as glazed as he'd been under the Imperius curse. She wiped the extra snow off the root and sat beside him, still he made no attempt to acknowledge her. She cleared her throat. He remained silent and stiff.

"Interesting book?" she asked, nodding towards the _Wizard's Encyclopaedia to All Things Magical_ which he was reading.

This time Harry did look up, he forced a taken aback expression, however Hermione saw the tightness in his eyes,

"Hermione? Sorry, lost in thought." and with that he turned back to the page he'd been staring at for some time.

Although Harry didn't read as she did, he could certainly read a lot faster than that!

She sat there uncomfortably for a few minutes, twiddling her thumps and feeling unwanted while she listened to Harry's uneasy intakes of breath. Hermione expected him to turn to her at some point and vent his problems, she didn't mind lending an ear, she had asked on countless occasions what was bothering him. She would rather know, at least then she could try to help him.

It was as she was thinking this that a snowball hit her arm, she turned to find the culprit that of her other best friend and his new girlfriend.

"OI!" Ron yelled, "Cheer up you two. It's Christmas Eve!"

Hermione forced a smile, though in all honesty she was about ready to succumb to tears, somehow she just knew she was losing him. She'd already lost Draco, she wouldn't be able to cope if Harry left her as well.

Upon seeing Ron's concerned expression, Hermione got to her feet,

"Come on, Harry. One snowball fight then we'll let you study for as long you like."

Her boyfriend barely looked up,

"No, thanks."

"Aw, come on, mate!" Ron called,

"Don't be a spoil sport, Harry!" Lavender chimed in.

At this Harry looked up and gave a small grin, he shook his head,

"Busy, sorry."

Before she could say '_Merlin's beard'_ he was once again all-consumed in the large encyclopaedia. Not only hurt, but also angry, Hermione gave a '_hmph_' and bent down to collect a ball of the icy, white substance. She tried to dodge the on coming snowballs whilst she moulded her own, she was hit quite a few times in the process, but it was all worth it, seeing as when she threw hers she hit Ron square in the face and within moments they were in a full blown snow-fight.

No. Not just a fight. They had declared war.

Hermione was actually surprised how much she was enjoying herself -and with Lavender Brown at that! It was the first time in weeks she'd felt weightless. This was the highest her spirits had been since Harry and Draco had begun acting strange. It felt good to laugh again, to feel that small sense of happiness. Unfortunately, the sensation didn't last very long, within an three quarters of an hour Harry had upped and gone inside, leaving the three of them staring after him in bewilderment.

"What's up with him, eh?" Ron said, casually, "You two had a fight or something?"

Hermione shook her head, her hair whipping her rosy cheeks,

"I don't know. He hasn't been himself for a while." she admitted helplessly, "He won't talk to me about it."

Ron gave an understanding nod, he crossed the distance between him and Lavender and wound his arms around her.

They kissed.

It occurred to her then that she and Harry hadn't kissed in a while, he'd hardly touched her in the past few weeks, despite her efforts to be with him, he seemed determined to push her away. It was only now though, that she felt the full force of his rejection of her.

Ron and Lavender broke away from each other, he stroked her hair and grinned, she smiled back and they pulled apart.

"Right." he said, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging, "I'll go talk to him. See if I can get anything out of him."

Hermione nodded,

"Thanks Ron."

With that the auburn haired lad walked away, leaving her alone with Lavender.

The two girls stood in awkward silence, Hermione looking everywhere but at the fellow Gryffindor directly in front of her, who was staring intently after her.

"I wouldn't worry about it." Lavender said gently, "If you'd only give in he'd be back in your arms in no time."

"What?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

She wasn't fully sure she was following her.

"Well, you haven't slept with him yet, have you?"

"What?" Hermione repeated, blushing hard.

Lavender rolled her eyes and crossed her arms,

"Please, do you know nothing about boys?" she said, her tone no longer gentle, but rather irritated, "Hermione, he's bored. I mean it has been _four months_."

Hermione chewed her lip,

"Harry's not like that." she countered.

Hermione glared at Lavender, but the girl wasn't having any of it and glowered right back, Lavender with a triumphant twinkle in her eye while Hermione worried that she may be right. The thought had hardly crossed her mind until now. She couldn't say she hadn't thought about it from time to time, she had, but it wasn't exactly something she was eager to do. If anything she was terrified, even though she trusted Harry explicitly.

"Are you really going to risk losing him because you're too frigid?"

The words echoed in her head, she tried to be logical about this. Harry was not that type of bloke, he would understand that she wasn't ready just yet.

"I am not frigid!" Hermione ground out a little too loudly.

Lavender mockingly raised her eyebrows at her,

"You know I'm right, Hermione." she said, before spotting someone behind her, "Katie!" she called, waving at the girl.

A second later, Lavender had run off and Hermione prayed it wasn't to give relationship advice to poor Katie Bell.

Well, she was obviously wrong! Firstly, Harry was a gentleman. He didn't care about that kind of thing. Secondly, she was not frigid just because she didn't want to rush into anything and thirdly who was Lavender-Bloody-Brown to tell her what to do?

But then Harry had been all over her before. Look at them in the Three Broomsticks having a food fight of sorts with Butterbeer and then there was the time before that where they were mucking about in the lake, skimming stones and splashing each other and, of course, not forgetting all the mornings he made her a cup of hot chocolate and discussed how to get the Ministry to enforce equality for house-elves.

Back then they'd been together every moment of every day.

Maybe she was right. Dear Merlin! Maybe Lavender was right!

Her breath came out quick and ragged. _I can't lose him too. _The voice in her head spoke. Hermione nodded. It was right. She couldn't. Soon she was bounding through the corridors, her eyes darting in every direction, looking for him. She peered into the Great Hall and thought she caught a glimpse of white-blonde hair. She ignored it and continued to run up the steps to the first floor. Heart racing. Thoughts a whirlwind of worry.

She found him pacing in an empty classroom. Hermione entered the room, she pulled off her hat, scarf and gloves and slipped out of her duffle, then, without making a sound, locked the door behind her.

This time he looked up, his frown deepening,

"Hermione?"

She tried to ease her uneven breathing and attempting to appear cool and collected as she sauntered into the room.

"Harry." she smiled, making her way over to him.

Hermione fastened her arms around his neck, his hands rested hesitantly on her arms, his lips turned down at the corners.

Slowly, they moved even closer to each other.

She kissed him. Passionate, needy and fearful in her attempts. Her hands pulling at his hair, thinking this was what he wanted, as their tongues messaged one another she felt the heat radiate off his skin, felt his need in his kisses, in the way he caressed her arms. She smiled. It was a hopeful one this time, more real, because she knew now that he did want her.

Hermione pulled away, Harry rested his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath. She took a step back and, with a deep breath and sweaty palms, she tugged off her jumper. Harry's eyes widened slightly, but she took no notice of it and moved to kiss him again, her hands shaking whilst she unbuckled his belt.

Harry immediately staggered back.

His face one of utter shock.

"Hermione, no." he said, shaking his head.

He tried to push her hands away but she persisted, fraught with the need to make things right between them. Her hands ran along the toned muscles beneath his jumper, the feel of his skin didn't leave her tingling like it usually did. She needed to do this. If it was the only way she'd be able to keep him than she _had_ to do it.

She tried to tug his top off, but he wouldn't budge. He kept forcing her hands away,

"Get off!" he half-yelled,

"I want you." she whimpered, on the verge of tears, "I want to be with you, Harry! I know you've been wanting to do this...and-and I know I must have got on your nerves, but I'm ready now-" she kissed his lips, "and I want you." she moved down to his ear, his jawline, his neck, "I want you." she whispered a third time.

He grabbed both her wrists and pushed her away, backing up himself to create at least eight feet between them,

"What's gotten into you?" he said quietly, but before she had a chance to answer he spoke again, angry this time, "And when have I ever given you reason to think that? Yeah, I _have _been wanting this for a while, but I don't mind waiting, Hermione! And I certainly don't want it to happen like this."

She bit her lip, and hugged herself, aware that only her dusty pink balconette bra was covering her torso. She felt cold -and it had nothing to do with the winter weather.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice think and eyes glistening.

He let out a breath,

"I mean you're barely in the right mind to decide if you want Christmas pudding!"

"I know what I want, Harry!" she stated sadly, "I want us to go back to the way we were."

His face softened, understanding sinking in. His expression became pained, she watched the emotions flitter across his features, too tired to decipher them. He turned away from her and hung his head. Hermione bit back tears. She knew now that she had lost yet another dear friend.

"I-I have to tell you something..." he began slowly,

"What?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

A few moments passed and the silence seemed to suffocate them, until finally the words escaped Harry's mouth,

"I kissed Cho."

Hermione gasped, she stumbled backwards at the news, her knees weak, she fell into one of the student's desks and gripped it to steady herself. Harry turned around to face her now and she could see the tears shimmering in his own green eyes. They stared at each other, her in shock and betrayal, him with a look of the deepest remorse she'd ever seen.

"It was in the Room of Requirement...a few weeks ago...we were talking a-about Cedric and there was mistletoe...and we, well, we sort of..." he trailed off

She said nothing. She was too busy struggling to breath let alone think of anything to say to that!

"_Do you love him?"_

"_What?" _

"_Just answer the question...! Do you or don't you? Because there's something you need to know about Pott-"_

The memories of her conversation with Draco now made perfect sense. He had known. He had known and he hadn't told her because he knew it would hurt her. The thought of what she'd said to him caused the guilt to overwhelm her tenfold this time, while her anger towards Harry rose bit by bit. All of those promises that what he'd felt for Cho was long gone. All of those beautiful moments with him. All of it was lies.

He didn't want her. He'd never really want her.

Harry swallowed hard,

"Hermione...it-it," he ran a hand through his hair and spread his eyes out wide, "it meant nothing."

Regardless of what he'd said, tears trailed down her face, she snivelled. She knew he was waiting for her to say something, she just didn't know what to say. Quite a few things had crossed her mind, all of them would have only made the whole thing worse by hurting them both even more and she didn't want that.

"Get out." she murmured softly.

Her eyes lifted to watch his face contort and twist with too much anguish for her liking, he opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it.

"Go." she spoke louder this time, wanting nothing more than to be alone, "Leave!"

He looked at her with wide, honest eyes,

"Hermione, please!"

"I need to think." she said, transfixed by the stone floor, her arms still crossed over her chest.

Harry nodded once, his face crestfallen and made his way to the door, he stopped next to her and took her hand. Sucking in a shallow breath, she turned her head in the opposite direction, determined not to break down in front of him. He caressed her knuckles, then leaned in to kiss her cheek. Hermione set her jaw, making no attempt to look at him. She felt his fingers slip from hers and heard his footsteps, followed only by the sound of the door opening and closing.

He was gone.

Hermione wrapped one arm around herself and slapped the other to her face, trying to hold back the sobs. She didn't know how long she stayed like that. All she knew was that after a while she began to get cold, but she didn't have it in her to move, she felt suddenly vulnerable and isolated. Fear gripped her at the thought of being without both Draco and Harry.

Her tears so fierce that rattled her tiny frame.

She didn't hear the door open a second time, didn't hear the new set of footsteps that entered the room, didn't notice the tall figure in black standing over her,

"Miss Granger! What on earth are you doing?" Professor Snape ground out in his usually callous tone.

Snapped from her unbearable train of thought, Hermione realised she was still only half-dressed and immediately grabbed her jumper. She turned away and slipped it on, blushing a deep shade of crimson.

"To think this is how our Prefects behave!" he muttered as he walked over to his desk.

Hermione was in the middle of collecting her things when his words cut through her. She may not have been a good enough girlfriend, or friend for that matter, but if there was one thing she was capable of it was being an example Prefect!

Not to mention that Snape, of all people, had no right to judge her!

She turned to him, her eyes hard as steel despite being rimmed red from tears,

"For Merlin's sakes just say it!"

He spun around, eyes dark and face dangerous,

"Excuse me?" he demanded quietly.

Hermione shrugged into her coat, and slipped her hands into her gloves,

"You hate me-" she paused to pull her hair from out of her scarf as she slung it around her neck, "-that's fine, but don't you dare think that I'm a bad Prefect!"

The professor narrowed his eyes at her, though he said nothing as she headed for the door, her fingers had grasped the handle when his next sentence caught her very much off-guard,

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" his voice was gentle and he asked the question earnestly.

Hermione's brow furrowed, her lip quivered. Snape was never civil with her, let alone cared how she felt.

She nodded all the same,

"I'm fine, thank you." she replied weakly.


	8. Playing With Poison

**A/N: With this being the end of Fifth Year (thank god) I will now be updating weekly once again, seeing as all Sixth Years needs is a bit of editing, while this year needed a whole rewrite. Anyways, just wanted to let you know and tell you to go by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2! Enjoy! **

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><p><span>Chapter 40<span>

Playing With Poison

He had crossed the line! Who was he to speak to him in such a manner? Who was he to toss Granger aside for that pathetic Chang girl? Worse, who did he think he was having Lucius Malfoy sent to Azkaban?

It was evening and the corridors were slowly emptying.

Draco stormed down the halls, irate. His face contorted into a sneer, his lip curled back as he remembered the conversation he had had with the Boy-Whose-Throat-He-Would-Rip-Out-One-Day.

"_You're dead, Potter!" _

"_Funny, you'd think I'd stop walking around." _

He clenched his fist and knocked a collection of books out of a third year's arms,

"Hey!" the girl snapped.

Draco glared daggers at her with enough venom to make the poor girl blanch and with that she immediately bent down to pick the books up without another word.

He was going to make him regret this! How dare the filthy little helminth? Draco's father was in prison, his mother was heartbroken and Granger thought he hated her! All because that bastard had to bloody interfere! Potter was poison. He infected everything he touched -and unfortunately everything he happened to touch belonged to Draco.

The blonde Slytherin rounded the corner and half-ran up the unpredictable staircases. By the time he got to the fourth floor Draco was muttering to himself.

At least, he _thought_ he was, though it was a little too loud to be called 'muttering'. However, he was far too enraged to construct a sentence that was even somewhat coherent.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a growl of frustration. He wanted to hit something, to break something. He wanted to break Potter's face! He wanted the satisfaction of hearing the _crack_ and seeing the blood pour from his broken nose or his busted lip.

Draco was too lost in his thoughts to hear his fellow Prefect humming softly to herself, it wasn't until he noticed the stupid flyers that featured what he presumed was supposed to be a cute house-elf in a business suit with a title that read: _House-Elves, they may be little but they ARE people too! Stop slavery, join S.P.E.W. _And there was only one person in the world that cared that much about the ugly little cretins.

He stared at her as she waved her wand to direct the flyers to which wall to post themselves. She had cuts all over her face and a bruise above her eyebrow, her fingernails were chipped and broken, most likely from trying to claw her way out of Dolohov's grip around her neck.

Draco had heard about what had happened in the Department of Mysteries, not from her, but from his father.

Before he was sent to Azkaban that is.

"Granger." he said, making his way over to her, she turned her head to face him just as he grabbed her wrist, "I know my father was there. Did he say anything? About us?"

Her eyes went wide, she glanced down at her wrist then back at him,

"Draco, what...? Let go!"

"Did he say anything?" he persisted.

She looked away, eyes glazed with memory, she shook her head,

"No."

Draco dropped his hand and nodded once, content with the fact that for now his father was still very much in the dark about his...relationship of sorts with a muggle-born.

He was just glad that the only people that knew now were ones he could trust. Except for Potter, of course, but he hoped the lad was smart enough to realise that if he outed Draco he was outing Granger as well and by extension putting her in harms way.

"He talked about you though." she murmured.

His head snapped up, face smooth, he was deliberately shutting her out, he swallowed hard, trying to ease the lump in his throat,

"What did he say?" he asked, failing to keep the dread out of his voice.

Seemingly unaware of her actions, Granger took his hand and began absentmindedly caressing his knuckles, the contact sent a thrill through him, it filled his chest and silenced the panicked voices in his head. Suddenly, with her touch, the world was righted.

"He was angry." she explained slowly, recalling the events, "I can't remember exactly but...we were being chased by Death Eaters and...I got separated-" Draco wrapped his hand around hers, holding it tightly, "-Lucius found me and he just started talking...about you, about muggle-borns. Everything really."

Draco gave a sarcastic chuckle,

"Father did always have an opinion on everything." he ground out, with newfound anger at the fact that it was more than likely his father who gave her those injuries rather than Dolohov like he initially thought. "He did this, didn't he?" he ran his thumb over a cut on her chin.

Granger lowered her eyes to the floor, her brows knitted slightly,

"He's done worse to you."

She looked at him under her lashes, it wasn't a seductive stare, but a serious one. She was studying his face, trying to steal a glimpse at the secrets he was keeping from her.

The same secrets he'd kept since he met her.

How his father treated him, how his mother was so in love she couldn't see it, how he idealised Lucius despite it all, how he loved her more than anything else in the world and how that terrified him.

"That's different."

Granger looked appalled,

"No, it's not! I can understand him attacking me...I'm a mudblood-"

Draco closed his eyes, a wounded expression marring is flawless features,

"Don't say that. You know I didn't mean it, I was just angry..." he started, but she was already ignoring him and talking over him,

"-but you? You're his son! He has no right!"

He dropped his hand.

"I'm used to it."

Her brows furrowed even more, her nostrils flared with anger, she rolled her head in annoyance, unable to believe he could say such a thing. Draco gave a weak smile at the knowledge that she still cared. At least a little.

Granger was so beautiful, with her bossy attitude and her big brown eyes that could stare him down without even blinking. Even as irritating as she was she was still perfect and what drove him mad the most was that she didn't realise it.

"Yes, but you shouldn't be! You shouldn't have to-to deal with..."

She trailed off, eyes narrowing in thought,

"Wait...how would Lucius know about us?"

Draco opened his mouth, closed it and looked away, he sighed, risking a glance at her. She had that look on her face. With one eyebrow cocked, her brown orbs showing too much white and her jaw was set firmly. It was the adamant, mothering look that Granger took on from time to time, and for some reason he thought it endearing.

He said nothing.

What was he supposed to say? That their secret wasn't quite as 'secret' as she'd thought? No. He was a tad afraid of the warning look Granger gave him when he failed to even make an attempt to explain. He tried to think of ways to get out of admitted the truth. That he'd been reckless and stupid and allowed far too many people to know about them. But this time when he opened and closed his mouth, Granger didn't just give him a warning look, she glared at him.

"How does he know?" she demanded.

Draco's lip twitched, he knew he was going to regret this,

"It's a long story. One I don't think you'd care to hear."

She blew out a hot breath,

"Draco!" she hissed.

He licked the sweat away from his upper lip and stuffed his hands in his pockets, his stance as casual as if they were talking about music or books or something, it contradicted his troubled expression,

"Alright..." he began, begrudgingly, "Basically, Zabini found out –sometime in second term, I think- and I thought I could trust him."

She swallowed hard, her breathing becoming erratic as her eyes darted all over the place, he could see the thoughts whizzing through her head,

"He told me to stay away from you but...well, after what happened at the World Cup, and not forgetting our truce, he began taunting me...in private at first, then in front of Crabbe, Goyle, even Parkinson. A few weeks ago we had a fight and Zabini –being the prat that he is- was about ready to out us in front of the entire Slytherin common room."

Granger was practically hyperventilating by this point, her face as pale as his own, if not paler,

"I Silencio-ed him." he said quickly, hoping to ease her panic, "But by then I found out that Parkinson knew and had done for some time –since first year apparently."

She gulped and rose her eyebrows in shock,

"That's when I stormed out. Found _Potter_," he spat the name vehemently, "with that foul Chang girl. After our," he nodded towards her shaken form, "conversation, I stole some Veritaserum from Snape's stall and fed it to Zabini and Parkinson in their sleep. I had to know if they'd told anyone else." Draco sucked in a breath of air, while Granger clasped a hand to her face, horrified, "Luckily enough, they'd only told Van Hegna." he rolled his eyes, "And the three of them spent half the night arguing about how they should go about letting the entire school know. It's alright though; once I knew that everyone else had yet to be informed, I Obliviated them."

The look in her eyes was nothing short of terror and, being Granger, it wasn't long before the look turned murderous. In a way, he was almost lucky that she'd encountered his father, if she hadn't she'd have been more likely to find some gigantic book to smack him with. Honestly! He'd rather be thrown down the stairs and break his leg again than be hit with one of those ridiculous books she carries around!

They could kill someone!

To his surprise Granger did nothing. Her only movement was that of her chest rising and falling as she tried to regain a normal breathing pattern. She glanced up at him, holding her stomach as if she felt sick.

Draco watched on with an intense stare that said nothing and everything all at once,

"How did they find out?" she asked, her voice an octave too high.

Again the blonde ran a hand through his hair, no longer simply tousling it but pulling at it,

"I don't know. Zabini's always been too observant for anyone's good but Parkinson...? I'd have never thought _she'd_ figure it out!"

Finally able to breath properly, Granger nodded, her hands now on her hips, her cheeks regaining their natural roses and cream complexion, hiding the freckles that had only moments ago stood out against her ghost-like skin,

"Well, at least you sorted it out before Lucius heard anything of it." she looked away for a moment, "And now that everyone is back to being completely oblivious we can go back to..." she trailed off upon seeing his lip twitch a second time that evening, "What is it?" she asked.

He didn't answer, face cast to the ground, her eyes widened upon the realisation,

"I cannot believe you! Who else knows? And I mean everyone who knows this time!"

Draco shrugged, pulling a sheepish face,

"They won't utter a word to anyone, Granger, I swear."

Rather than comfort her as he'd hoped, this only served to put her more on edge. Why on earth hadn't he just Obliviated everyone?

"Who?" she repeated in a hard tone.

The blonde Slytherin blew out a breath, wanting nothing more than to turn around and pretend they'd never had this conversation, for knowing how angry she'd be with him if he told her the truth. She was already practically losing it and she only knew the half of it. Draco was seriously beginning to think that where she was concerned he would always bugger up something.

"Professor Snape and Moaning Myrtle." he said quickly, praying to Merlin that she wouldn't hate him too much for it.

They were talking again. It was far from a normal conversation. Not even close to the usual topics a bloke and a girl their age would have. But then they never were normal, were they? Either way they were being civil with each other for the first time in a good few months and he was more than aware of how much he missed being with her. He missed being able to be this close to her, close enough that he could see every individual lash or the tiny laces of skin. So close that he could inhale her.

Draco clenched his fist, watching her face grew even more horrified with every thought that crossed her mind.

She opened her mouth but he cut her off,

"I flew into a rant in the Prefects bathroom last year after the Moody incident. Myrtle won't tell, that I know for a fact, seeing as she's blackmailing me."

Her brows furrowed,

"Blackmailing you?" she echoed, "What does she want exactly?"

"For me to be her friend."

They stayed silent for a few minutes, before Granger allowed herself a small giggle, Draco let out a soft chuckle,

"I suppose it _is_ rather funny." he said.

She smiled up at him,

"Oh, the great Draco Malfoy being forced to befriend not one but two muggle-borns."

His smirk grew as she had once again called him the 'great Draco Malfoy'. Maybe it was the words themselves, maybe it was the way she said it -so innocently teasing yet so forthright as if she believe it to be truth- something about it turned him on.

But as he replayed those words in his head, her own smile had faltered,

"And Snape?" she said solemnly.

He reluctantly trudged away from his thoughts,

"Snape's not going to tell either." he assured her, she didn't seem at all convinced, "I made him swear to it, I made him take the Unbreakable Vow."

Granger nodded, and her shoulders visibly relaxed, her face awash with relief, he saw the questions in her eyes so that when she opened her mouth to ask them she had barely got out the first syllable when he –once again- spoke over her,

"Does it really matter how he found out?" he asked, hotly,

"Too right it does!" she countered, "If I know how he found out then I know exactly how _not _to act around him." she folded her arms across her chest, "And if you must know it's quite irritating that you keep cutting me off!"

"I'm sorry" –the apology was brief and spoken absentmindly- "but I don't see how this will help matters!"

She rapped her foot against the stone floor and gave him a steely look, and, despite himself, he caved.

It wasn't fair that she could do this to him. _Him!_ She could make him comply to just about anything. _She_ was meant to be the one at his feet, he was a Malfoy, he was meant to be the one to boss her about.

Not the other way around.

"I want to know. Everything. If you're going to let people know about...whatever we are...then the least you could do is tell me."

"Alright, alright!" he grumbled, fed up, "It was when I visited you in the hospital. I tried to hide but he saw me."

Granger frowned, her pretty features pulled into a mask of confusion –something she didn't wear often.

"I don't remember you ever visiting me once and I've been in the hospital a few times." she said it nonchalantly, but he could tell there was underlying hurt and anger there.

Draco rolled his eyes,

"That's because you were Petrified the whole time, you dolt!"

She looked thoroughly taken aback, her eyes narrowed in thought, her mouth agape slightly, she cocked her head to the side and pointed a finger at him,

"No, because I distinctly remember Har...being told that you..."

He had noted that she'd gone to say 'Harry', then immediately changed what she planned to say then stopped altogether, which lead him to one conclusion; Potter had found out something about him and told her, but what? As far as he knew there was nothing that Potter could have known that she didn't.

Albeit, he wouldn't put it past that little git to make false accusations against him. Potter always was full of it.

"That I what?" he demanded to know, trying to keep the serrated edge from his voice.

Granger shook her head,

"Never mind." she looked down, "I just never expected you to..." she cleared her throat, "I thought you'd have been happy about that."

The words sliced through him like a knife.

Did she honestly think that he would want that? That he would be able to make through a minute if she were dead? Let alone the rest of his life?

It had terrified him when he'd heard what had happened in the Department of Mysteries, just the idea that at any moment she could have been struck with the Killing Curse by a Death Eater. Imagining a world without her did him no amount of good, he could already feel his stomach beginning to knot so tightly that he felt sick at the imagery in his head. Four years ago the only people he'd have ever thought he could care this much about anyone besides his parents, but then he met her and everything –even his prejudiced beliefs- was altered. Suddenly the world stopped revolving around himself and starting revolving around her. He had found someone who meant more to him than he could ever consider possible.

And yet here she was stating that she thought he'd have been pleased at her death? He shouldn't have been surprised. He'd said and done enough to her to make her think he hated her.

Overcome with remorse and shame, Draco bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips, so light in fact that it was more a caress than a kiss.

Once again her breath came out uneven.

"Don't." she said quietly, staring at him with such intensity that his entire being ached.

He attempted to stroke her cheek with his thumb but she turned her head just enough to give him the hint, he dropped his hand.

She sighed,

"Don't do..._that_...if you're not going to talk to me for the next five months." her expression was pleading, "I don't think I can go through it again."

Draco clenched his fists. He really had ruined everything between them, hadn't he? And then he was foolish enough to think he could just waltz back in and everything would be fine. He was an idiot.

"I'm going to fix this." he said with more determination than ever, "I promise."

Granger smiled and, reaching up on her tip-toes, she wound her arms around his neck and they kissed softly, tentatively, almost as if they weren't sure if this was the right thing to do. It was nothing at all like their first kiss.

After a few minutes they pulled away from each other, both looking somewhat similar to a rabbit in headlights.

Draco squeezed her hand.

"I'm going to fix this." he repeated.


	9. Borgin and Burkes

**A/N: YAY! Sixth year was by far my favourite, hopefully you'll see why later on.**

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><p><strong>Year Six: The Half-Blood Prince <strong>

Chapter 41 

Borgin and Burkes

His stomach retched. Tasting bile in his mouth, he swallowed it back down. Clearing his throat in a frail attempt to hide it, he knew the evidence of his fear was written on his face in the dark circles under his eyes which seemed to sink in to his head, the unusually pale skin, his slack features -who needed a metal mask in the shape of a skull when he looked half-dead himself?

It had become a trademark of his over the years to wear mostly black, courtesy of his father's limited taste, but more often than not he liked to add a bit of dark blue or his house colour green so as to not seem like he was about to attend a funeral.

And whereas last year he felt that the colour suited him, now he was sickened by the sight of it, it was just another reminder of what he'd been forced to become and that regardless of how badly he wanted out he wasn't ready to die for it.

Narcissa smiled at him, he could see the unease etched on her face, amongst pride that is.

Draco had always hated seeing his mother worry. She had the strangest eyes, sometimes he thought her worse than his father, because she could inflict pain and not even know it. Today, though, it was her pride he distasted more.

He stared back at her, his nose scrunched up ever so slightly, an indistinguishable look of disgust on his face, not the angry sort he usually portrayed, but the troubled sort.

They made their way through Diagon Alley, not to buy a new suit, nor the latest broomstick or even an expensive trinket he would later grow bored of and throw away.

No, they were there for something much more sinister.

They were going to the place where Draco, having received his first official task from the Dark Lord, would get the means to finish the job. The thought of what he was doing made his skin crawl, he felt dirty, inside and out, he felt how he used to imagine muggle-borns to feel.

He couldn't believe how low he'd sunk. Not long ago if anyone had dared given him orders he'd have sneered and belittled them, even Lucius had been having trouble with him as of late and now look at him! Scampering around like a bloody rat! The only difference between him and Wormtail was that he refrained from openly cowering in front of the Dark Lord, other than that he was just as pathetic. Aunt Bella had called him weak, taunting him that he was constantly looking over his shoulder as if he were a child, she didn't realise that beneath the Dark's Lord merciless gaze he did, in fact, feel like one.

Although admittedly he had become quite paranoid in the recent months since he was given the 'gift' of the Dark Mark.

But something was really off this time. He could feel it. The air around him was thick, clouded with tension. Questions. He thought he heard footsteps yet whenever he turned around there was nothing there.

Would it surprise him if he was going mad? No. Did he think that it was all in his head, which had become highly disturbed? No. Someone was there, following them, it gave him a curious sensation of both vulnerability and, even more odd, comfort. He closed his eyes, focusing on the presence he felt for a brief moment.

His eyes shot open. Hands balled into a tight fist, breath caught in his lungs, cold sweat dripping down the nape of his neck.

He'd done his best not to think about her, after all what was the point in learning Occlumency to protect her if he got her killed with a mere slip of the tongue? He hadn't said her name in two whole months, everytime she entered his train of thought, he traced the mark on his left forearm with his fingertips, imagining the vile and unforgivable things he'd have to do in order to keep the Dark Lord from killing his family.

In a sick way it helped, he'd come to realise he'd never be good enough for her, he hoped the agony of that would allow him to keep his distance, but he doubted it would stay that way for long though and therefore dreaded going back to Hogwarts.

The school seemed ridiculously foolish now.

Charms class, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, what good had all that done him? Despite him being rather academic, none of these silly little lessons had gotten him anywhere.

His mother led him through the alleyway, past the insanity of Knockturn Alley and down a couple of steps in the direction of Borgin and Burkes -what most considered a dodgy shop, specialising in unusual magical items.

He'd been there before, countless times with his mother to buy rare and powerful bits and pieces she liked to use for the décor at the manor.

The door was opened by Caractacus Burke, a small old man with a thatch of hair covering his eyes, who welcomed them in with a crooked, gap-toothed grin and a quiet grumble. Narcissa thanked him and stepped inside immediately, Draco, on the other hand, hesitated, glancing around once more.

The last thing he wanted was for _her_ to be following him. God forbid she found out what he was, or worse yet, if she got caught up in it!

Finally he slipped inside the shop, silently closing the rickety, glass door behind him.

Burke said nothing as he led Draco and his mother up the winding metal staircase, the black paint flaking off the railing, the place was dusty and dimly lit as it had always been. It was seldom a busy shop and anyone looking in could easily bet they were up to no good. There they were, two Malfoy's in a seedy area followed by a group of people clad in dark robes, the ruthless Finir Greyback among them, while the other Malfoy was in prison.

No, this defiantly wouldn't look good at all.

Once on the top floor they were greeted by the smooth-talking, greasy-haired, overweight Mr. Borgin, Draco had always disliked him more of the two men, maybe it was the fact that he was always trying to sell him useless items of absolutely no value for far too many galleons.

Then again it might have been that the that the man clearly adored the sound of his own voice,

"Welcome, dear Narcissa and, of course, Mr. Malfoy! My, you've grown. Lookin' more like your father every day."

For that one comment Draco wanted to hit him.

"Well, what can I do for you?" Borgin looked from Narcissa to Draco and back again, expectantly,

"We're here to buy the cabinet." the young Death Eater informed rudely, nodding towards the Vanishing Cabinet.

Borgin beamed, taking out a pipe and walking over to what seemed to be no more than an extravagantly decorated piece of furniture,

"Ah, yes, beautiful piece of art, is she not? Now, that'll be ten hundred galleons."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the man and suddenly room became darker, literally. He raised a single brow at Greyback, who had, for some reason, pulled the shutters down on the window.

"Two hundred. No more." he insisted.

Borgin laughed whole-heartedly, clutching his stomach,

"My dear boy," he chuckled, "I'm afraid that won't do. This is a priceless artefact, it's been in the shop for centuries!"

Clenching his fists, Draco suppressed a growl; losing his temper wouldn't help matters,

"It's broken."

"Alright, nine hundred galleons." the man said, going over to his desk and pulling out his docking booklet.

Draco stormed over, knocking a chair out of the way. He grabbed the man by the collar, his face little more than three inches away,

"You listen to me you _filthy, despicable, insignificant_ little maggot! The Dark Lord wants that cabinet, now you can either hand it over and take the money or..." he trailed off, praying to God that the man complied as he still didn't know if he had it in him to kill.

Borgin flinched, nodding vigorously,

"Alright, alright! Take it! Take it!"

Draco released him, causing him to fall back in his seat. The blonde Slytherin pulled a wad of notes out of his suit jacket and tossed them at the visibly shaken man, before he made his way over to the cabinet.

He touched it. Set his palm flat against the rough surface, felt its power surge through him, he tried to think, to focus, remembering a peculiar bit of magic he'd found in the restricted section a couple of years ago. It was possible.

"Can you fix it, Draco?" his mother asked, her voice, as always, was soft, he gave a brusque nod,

"It'll take a while but it can be done."

Narcissa sighed with relief, another proud smile lighting up her face,

"Don't take too long." Greyback said with a grin baring all his teeth, "You might not have much time left."

Instantly Narcissa's smile turned into a concerned scowl, she moved to rest her hand on Draco's shoulder but he caught her, sending a cold glare her way.

She had pushed him to do this just as much as the rest of them, he did not need her trying to comfort him now!

"I think it's time we left. Come, Draco." she said, starting down the staircase, without a word he followed her,

"Eh...um...wha-what about the cabinet?" Borgin asked meekly,

"It's staying here." Greyback explained, "With me."

Borgin's eyes went wide, colour drained from his face_._ Draco's brow furrowed, he said nothing, deciding to keep his pity to himself. Greyback was sick, just like his aunt and the rest of the Death Eaters and even Voldemort. Unfortunately for the shopkeeper, he didn't always play by the rules.

Draco would have liked to say something, to reassure Borgin, even if blindly, but he couldn't, over the past two months Draco had learnt it better to bite his tongue.

He exited the shop with his mother, trying to ignore the Death Eaters as he brushed past them.

A chill ran down his spine and it wasn't from the cold. Though the wind outside _was_ bitter, wiping at his jacket and his neatly combed hair, Narcissa reached up to straighten his tie,

"That's my boy." she murmured, tearfully, "You're father will be so proud."

"Will he?" Draco replied, unable to keep a certain amount of venom from leaking into his tone,

"There." she smoothed down his suit, turning away from him, "Shall we return to manor for some tea?"

His gaze shifted nervously, falling on every shadow, he listened for any sound of approaching footsteps. There was nothing, still he felt her presence -she was the only one who made him feel like that; invincible and immensely breakable. A very selfish, very shameful part of him wanted her to be there, she often had a way of putting things right, he somehow thought she could fix this. Rather an idiotic ideal considering he had no intention of ever telling her the truth.

"You go on. I think I'll just pop into Dark Arts Established."

It was clear his mother didn't want him to go. Narcissa was terrified for his safety, fearing he wasn't cut out for this. She was right, he wasn't, but he'd have to be. He didn't have a choice.

She gave a court nod,

"Be careful." and with that she Disapparated.

Draco let out a breath and made his way down Diagon Alley, half of which was closed down, some shops had been damaged by the attack the other week, while others merely thought it best to get out of the way. Regardless that the Ministry was still to accept that Voldemort was back, the rest of the wizarding world had begun to believe the rumours.

Wasn't surprising really, with more and more Death Eaters turning up and the ominous tension that seemed to be everywhere.

People were scared. They'd be mad not to be with what was coming.

He stood in the middle of the street, staring up at the dark, coiling clouds obscuring the night sky and it gave him a small sense of comfort to think of how he could have stopped this.

He hadn't wanted to be one of them, he used to think he did, he loved power after all, but the World Cup changed him, he realised what being one of them would mean; the slaughtering of mudbloods. And he knew if he ever had to do that he'd fall apart, because he'd see her face on every victim.

Blaming himself for this nightmare allowed him to think he could control it, that if only he found a way to travel back in time, he'd be able to change the outcome. It was only when he couldn't find a single possible solution that he realised he was out of his depth.

It made him feel helpless. He hated this.

"Draco?"

The blonde turned to find her standing behind him.

Beautiful, magnificent, pure, honest...he was overcome with repugnance, how dare he walk the same ground as her? He was tainting the air around her, he couldn't allow that, she was the only good thing left in his life and that was the problem. He didn't deserve her in his life at all, never mind that it was unbelievably dangerous.

"I was about to head over to the Leaky Cauldron. Care to join me?"

"No." it broke his heart to say it and see her crestfallen expression, but he had to, having her alive to hate him was better then the alternative.

She hugged herself, shivering against the cold, he felt the urge to offer his jacket, instead he turned around and began to make his escape from her. From them. Draco knew they were probably watching, he could feel their beady, bloodthirsty eyes like knives in his back.

He had gotten no more than ten feet away when something grabbed his arm and spun him around. Of course, it was Granger, her brow furrowed,

"Please." she said.

He felt his shoulders slump slightly, his body aching to hug her. He was truly a waste of space, look how she had nearly defeated him with one word! Never mind her life could easily be on the line!

Draco shook his head firmly, not yet trusting his voice,

"Why not?" she asked, leaving him no other option than to answer,

"You really want to know the truth, do you?" he put as much malice into his tone as possible, covering his anguish with rage, "Funny, Granger. I thought you were supposed to be smart!"

Her concern turned into confusion and annoyance,

"I am smart! However figuring you out is no easy feat."

He forced a sneer,

"Then let me make it crystal clear; I don't like you. At all. In fact, I loath your very existence-" he saw her hurt, "every molecule, every tiny, filthy piece of you sickens me!" he croaked, remorse crushing him.

She swallowed hard, her breath coming out fast and hot,

"You don't fool me, Draco."

It took all his effort to fight back tears, meaning he had absolutely no energy left to arm himself against the pure agony consuming his entire being.

He felt like was dying the most excruciating death anyone could imagine and that the pain was unending. A life sentence for his crimes. For a fracture of a second he honestly believed that nothing was worse than this, there was no possible way the Dark Lord could cause him more pain than this very conversation was now.

Then it hit him. He was wrong.

There was only one thing that could destroy him and that was her big brown orbs, no longer with a light of intelligence, but glazed over, her body as immobile as stone. Cold, hard, dead.

The bile returned. He was going to be sick if he kept this up.

"But I did." he insisted, wondering could she tell how broken he was underneath the façade, "Every year I've made you think I care about you when any imbecile can see that I don't."

A single tear rolled down her cheek, tearing him apart, he tried to ignore it, bury it, but it wouldn't go. He couldn't make the pain go away, he couldn't stomp it out anymore.

Draco scoffed,

"You don't think all that diddle-daddle was real, do you? I was toying with you, Granger. You made it rather bloody easy too."

It was her turn to shake her head, storming off the direction she'd just came, he was on the verge of breaking down when she turned to face him, walking backwards,

"If that's what you want to tell yourself then fine! But I know you. Don't forget that."

He couldn't.

Didn't she know that's why he had to do this? Why he had to protect her? Because she was it. The only one...and she'd _always _be the only one.


	10. Amortentia

**A/N: ****Hey, I know this is a little late but hey I'm giving you TWO chapters next weekend (Friday 23rd and Christmas Eve), so yeah I'm kind of happy about that. Anyways, I hope I put enough Harry/Hermione in this though I doubt it. But please enjoy either way! **

**And to all those now on holiday...get pissed, eat loads and lounge around the house listening to _Wham_. It's Christmas, these things are now acceptable on a daily basis :D **

**X**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 42<span>

Amortentia

He was different. He wasn't himself.

She didn't just see it in his eyes or the paleness of his skin. She felt it. Like a chill in the air, covering a certain vital organ of hers in a layer of ice, so that each glare caused her heart to crack a little bit more. That was the only way she could describe it. He was colder toward her now than he'd ever been.

Her thoughts circled with guilt and annoyance, it was her fault, she let Lucius Malfoy get to her, the images that flooded her mind of the blood-purist blonde beating his own son were sickening. She hated people who abused others, who caused others to feel pain at their hand. Lucius was another matter though. She knew he must have struck Draco _countless _times over the years and, if he hadn't been in prison, he'd probably still be doing it. And that's what was so horrible; he wouldn't stop nor would he even feel a bit of remorse about it either.

Hermione ground her teeth, remembering Draco's Boggart. What kind of father must Lucius have been to have his own son fear him more than anything else he'd encountered?

The blood boiled in her veins at the thought.

Better yet, what had Draco suffered over the summer thanks to her inability to keep her mouth shut?

She watched him as he leaned against a desk, Potions book in hand, staring down at the floor.

He was somewhat akin to her grandmother's rather disturbing collection of porcelain dolls. He had fractures, marks left behind by people who didn't care enough to treat him properly, and she feared that one harsh word or a bit of ill-treatment could finally break him. He had become so terribly fragile since last term.

Hermione wanted to cross the room to him, take his hand and tell him that whatever the problem was, they'd fix it. The both of them. Together.

She couldn't.

Not because he'd deliberately positioned himself as far away from her as possible, but because she was afraid she might make things worse.

Draco may have feared his father, but he loved him all the same and he desperately wanted to make him and Narcissa proud. If there was one thing she knew about the Slytherin, it was that he wanted to be a good son.

For that she couldn't blame him. Not really.

And she refused to give him the painful choice of his family or her. After all, wasn't that why they'd decided to keep their friendship secret?

Hermione wished she could help him, however she'd known him long enough to know he didn't accept any help, he'd deal with it the way he always did; shut it out and get on with it. She decided the only thing she could do was be there for him, if he needed her he'd come to her in time. She wasn't going to press him.

Albeit, Harry wasn't helping matters either, everyday claiming Draco to be a Death Eater with no basis other than that they'd watch him go into Borgin and Burkes that day in Diagon Alley -_and_ that Lucius Malfoy was one himself. He had even gone as far to spy on him before they'd even gotten off the train.

Of course, Draco knew what he was up to and had wrongfully attacked him with a stunning spell before stomping on his face. She had given both boys a foul going at after that and unwittingly near brought poor Draco to tears. He had never cried in front of her before.

Hermione couldn't help but think a lot of Harry's anger towards the boy was caused by his jealousy. She knew Harry wasn't fully over her. He'd told her himself.

Not to mention he'd not quite been himself since Sirius died.

Speak of the Fireball dragon.

Her head snapped up when she heard Harry and Ron enter, both without an excuse as to why they were late. The pair merely went to get their books from the cupboard.

Harry gave her a small smile, which she returned. Though she couldn't believe how late they were!

"Now, as I was saying," Professor Slughorn began.

He was the new Potions master as Snape had finally gotten his grubby hands on Defence Against the Dark Arts. It would seem Dumbledore had had enough of the unfortunate run of Defence teachers,

"I've prepared some concoctions this morning. Any idea as to what these might be?"

Hermione's hand was raised instantly. She'd already figured out what each one was solely from the smell,

"Er, yes Miss...?"

"Granger, sir." she replied.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Draco look up, she felt his gaze on her as she made her way over to the cauldrons but then he returned to staring at the floor. A wave of disappointment washed over her.

She glanced into the first pot, pleased to find that once again she was right,

"That one there is Veritaserum." she spoke knowingly, "It's a truth-telling serum." she remembered how Umbridge had used it on students to find out about the DA last year.

Slughorn made no remark but she could see the hint of a smile trace his wrinkled lips.

"And that would be Polyjuice Potion. Terribly tricky to make." she added, thinking back to second year when she'd accidently transformed herself into a cat.

Finally, she came to the last potion, a bubbling purple liquid that smelt absolutely divine,

"And this is Amortentia...the most powerful love potion in the world. I tried to make it once," she said, blushing.

Harry rose his eyebrows at her, an almost hopeful look in his eye, and Draco's head reluctantly snapped up again. Upon noticing one another's reactions both lads exchanged glares. Well, would have Draco looked rather apathetic in comparison to his old sneering self, but it was a glower all the same, even if it was only half-hearted.

"Needless to say, it didn't work. However I did learn that it smells differently to each person depending on what attracts them...For example, I smell," she inhaled the flawless scent, "freshly mown grass," she remembered all the summers she spent at her grandmother's in the quaint little village of Tetbury, how the house always smelt clean and earthy after her grandfather had trimmed the lawn, "new parchment," the sort of smell you'd find in Flourish and Blotts, her most beloved place in the wizarding world, "and...Egidio Ciavento's _Gentleman,_ No. 8." she let out in a hurried breath.

Slughorn raised a brow at her.

She blushed and backed away from the pots. Having recognised the familiar blend of rosewater, vanilla, pepper, and cedar wood. She loved that smell, a peculiar combination of sweet and harsh.

Ciavento was an Italian wizard designer bigger than Chanel or Gucci. The _Gentlemen_ range cost over a hundred and twenty galleons for just one tiny bottle and there was only one person in this room willing to spend that much on cologne.

Hermione risked peek at Draco, his eyes were wider than they ought to have been. He'd caught on then, hadn't he?

She took her place, refusing to look at him again, and set her jaw. She stared firmly at the cauldrons, demanding herself to focus and not think of...diddle-daddle, as he called it.

"Now, Amortentia doesn't create actual love. That would be impossible." Slughorn explained as the girls moved forward.

All except Hermione that is.

Though she struggled to keep her temper as she watched Pansy stare longingly at the potion. It was anyone's guess who she'd want it for.

"But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession and for that reason it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room." thankfully, Slughorn put the lid on the cauldron, locking its beautiful scent inside and causing the girls to take a step back.

Hermione sneaked a look at Draco. His face still impassive. Had he meant what he said in Diagon Alley? Had it all been a game? Was she a fool to think that deep down a small part of him cared about her? No. She told herself. He _did_ care. He was just trying to keep his distance. He never was comfortable with caring about people. He was scared and she told herself it would pass.

"Er, sir," Katie began, "you haven't told us what's in that one." she pointed to the tiny vial containing a clear liquid and secured with an ornamental cork top,

"Oh, yes." the professor said as he began to remove it from the metal holder, "What you see before you ladies and gentlemen is a curious little potion known as Felix Felicis." he held the tiny vial up, "But it is more commonly referred to as-"

"Liquid Luck." Hermione stated, unable to hold back.

She _had_ tried! Waited to see if anyone else knew what it was.

Hermione supposed Draco would -he'd been top of every Potions class since he arrived at Hogwarts, alchemy was clearly his forte. However, she knew, his real interest was in Arithmancy.

But he'd hardly been paying any attention and therefore in the end she'd had no choice other than to blurt it out,

"Yes, Miss Granger. Liquid Luck." Slughorn replied, obviously taken aback by her sharpness, "Desperately tricky to make, disastrous should you get it wrong. One sip and you will find all your endeavours succeed."

Hermione noticed Draco look up, with the same longing the girls had for the Amortentia. She frowned...what on earth would he need a potion like that for?

"At least until the effects wear off." the professor chuckled, "So this is what I offer each of you today; one tiny vial of Liquid Luck to the student who, in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable Draught of Living Death. The recipe for which can be found on page ten of your books."

For once Draco was the first to open the book and find the page, reading it faster than she'd seen him read anything in her life,

"Good luck to you all. Let the brewing commence."

Hermione waited for Draco to choose his desk, then took the one closest to his, earning herself a dark glare from the blonde Slytherin. She just gave him a small smile and got to work. That isn't to say that when she buried her head in the book she missed Harry's concerned frown or that she didn't take note of how _he_ had positioned himself by her whilst glaring daggers at the blonde Slytherin.

"You need to stay away from him, Hermione." Harry's hiss was barely audible.

She gave him an annoyed look.

"Not this again." she murmured,

"You know I'm right!" he insisted quietly.

Hermione shook her hair off her face as she read through the book; Slughorn was right. It was awfully complicated and intricate.

"I'm not having this conversation with you." was all she said, not even lifting her head.

Hermione persisted in attempting to make the potion, regardless. Remembering what her father has once told her. That she could do anything as long as she set her mind to it.

She began with the sopophorous bean, attempting to cut it with a knife as the book had said, however getting a hold of the blasted thing was another matter. It was an unpredictable bean, constantly hopping from one part of the desk to the other.

She struggled to even keep it in one place. Harry took it on himself to help her by grabbing the bean and crushing it with his knife. She gave him a look.

"You crush it, don't cut."

Harry held the bean over her cauldron, letting the juice drip into the potion, not a scratch on him. Not a single droplet of sweat on his forehead. A look of utter casualness on his face.

She also noticed Draco glowering at him.

As friends they each had their roles. Harry was the Boy Who Lived, Ron was the Funny One and she the Smart One. Her intelligence and quick-wittedness was the only two things she had going for her. She felt slightly betrayed to think Harry might be able to steal that title from her.

Had he been a dark horse all this time?

"No." she corrected heatedly, "The instructions specifically say to cut."

She referred to the book again, going over it once more. No. She was right. It said to cut. So why did her potion look like a gurgling mess while Harry's was, dare she say it, perfect? It simply wasn't fair. Harry looked disappointed by her reaction, but carried on with his work. She supposed she ought to do the same, though she really didn't want to now that she knew Harry was going to beat her. From the looks of it she doubted her potion would harm a fly! Even with his help.

Hermione added the valerian roots, stirred counter-clockwise, gave a drop of water, followed by two tea spoons of moondew as the book claimed needed to be done. Continued with the sloth's brain -it was supposed to dissolve into the brew, hers melted on one side, and she had to poke the other with her glass wand, until it turned into a sort of mush.

Going by the recipe down to a T, she added the crushed snake's fangs, which blew up in her face, and wormwood, releasing a horrendous smell, the penultimate asphodel and the final ingredient, a bat's eye.

Hermione stared at the pot miserably. It was terrible. She knew it was terrible. She groaned internally but kept stirring, hoping it would turn that lilac colour soon and eventually clear.

It didn't.

By the time the hour was up her hair was the frazzled mess it had been before she'd learnt to tame it with an enchanted beautifying conditioner, her sleeves were rolled up and her tie loosened as she'd gotten hot standing over the cauldron for so long.

She was also a tad dirty, seeing as her potion had exploded slightly.

Draco sulked in a corner as Slughorn handed Harry the vial, claiming 'one drop of his potion would kill them all'.

Hermione could feel the bitterness and dejection welling up inside her, she almost wanted to scream 'cheat' at him. Harry had never done so well in potions before and no, it was not entirely down to Snape. Still she forced herself to clap, though very lazily. She wanted to be happy for him, she really did, she just didn't understand why she hadn't been able to do it.

She had got an Outstanding in nearly all her all OWLS, while Harry had gotten mostly Exceed Expectations, surely that was enough for someone to think that maybe he had a little help?

She tried to put the thoughts away as she stood in the classroom, which was quickly emptying as the professor began to clean up. Hermione stared at her monstrosity of a potion and then Harry's.

What was wrong with her?

Harry came over to her, a serious look on his face, he handed her the vial,

"You can have it if it's that important to you. I mean, I can't think of any reason why I'd need it."

She bit her lip and shook her head,

"No. Thank you."

There was an awkward silence. Things still weren't right between them. It still hurt to know he'd kissed Cho and then lied to her about it and it was this classroom in which she'd found out about it, after throwing herself at him that is.

Hermione still hated this room because of it.

"Congratulations." she mumbled.

Ron came up with Lavender trailing behind –the pair of them still going strong apparently. He patted Harry on the back a few times, a grin on his face.

"Good on you, mate." he said cheerfully.

He never was the type to compete. At least not in class and especially not potions.

"Well, come on you two." the auburn haired boy's tone became instantly dreary, "Snape will have our heads if we're late for _his_ class."

Ron and Lavender followed the other classmates out the door, Harry trudged behind, brushing her hand as he passed. Whether it was an accident or intentional, she didn't know.

"Are you alright, dear?" Slughorn asked,

"Oh, um, yes, sorry." she said, snapping out of her trance.

She exited the classroom and was surprised to find Draco leaning against the wall, a sullen look on his handsome face. Harry, Ron and Lavender already on their way to Defence class.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Hmph, please, Granger, if neither you nor I could brew that up, do you honestly think Potter could do it?"

Hermione hugged her books to her chest. She shrugged.

It did seem odd, but Harry had a knack for these kinds of things she supposed. It was ironic that he'd get the vial when he was the one out of the entire class with the most luck.

Yes, 'luck', that was what she decided to call it. She had no right to think him a cheat regardless how much she wanted to, but she also knew he, like the rest of them, had no idea how to make the draught until that moment.

"I don't know. Maybe."

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed. He pushed himself away from the wall and stood in front of her, less than three inches away.

It was strange, he seemed considerably more comfortable here in the middle of a crowed hallway with witnesses, then he did in Diagon Alley with no-one else around. He wasn't acting at all like himself.

"I want you to get it for me." he said, suddenly, "The Liquid Luck."

She gaped at him,

"Wh-?" she started.

Knowing she could simply ask for it, after all Harry had offered. Hermione felt ashamed she'd even considered it,

"No! It's Harry's, he earned it."

"He cheated."

"Either way, it's his. What would you need it for anyway?"

He couldn't look at her, his fists clenched. He was hiding something,

"I just do, alright?" he blew out a shaky breath, "Granger, I'm begging you."

Any other time she'd have smiled. The sight of Draco Malfoy begging certainly was a once in a lifetime chance, however the tension smothered her.

Pressed down on her like a dead weight,

"I'm sorry. I can't."

Hermione gently pushed past him. She heard him curse behind her but didn't turn back. She wasn't going to tell Harry about this either.

No point giving him any ammunition.


	11. A Tale of Two Boys

**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry about only posting one chapter, unfortunatly I was sick over Xmas. But you will have your two chapters this weekend, one of which is my favourite. Anyway, I've EDITED this one a little and I hope you all like it. XXX**

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><p><span>Chapter 43<span>

A Tale of Two Boys

Hermione wanted nothing more than to get out of that room; her were cheeks still flushed with embarrassment as she recalled their faces at the revelation that her parents were dentists. No, it wasn't a life-threatening job, but in the muggle world it was a good one! Surely they must have known that. Either way, she still couldn't rid herself of the humiliation and the thought that she should have said something else. Perhaps, she should have told a tiny fib or changed the subject at least.

She and Harry made their way down the halls, him in a dark pin-striped shirt and brown velvet jacket and her in a conservative knitted jumper and jeans.

There was still tension between Harry and her and she didn't want to make things more awkward than they were already. She loved Harry. As more than just a friend even, but he had hurt her in a way she'd have never have thought possible of him.

And then with Draco being the way he was...Hermione supposed she wasn't in the right mind for a relationship.

She still shuddered at the thought of that awful Cormac McLaggen. Really! He was a total lech! She had felt actually heaved during dinner when he gazed at her with what he thought was seductiveness and licked the whipped cream off his fingers. He was vile. He couldn't even eat properly for goodness sakes! Even if she weren't in love with two of her best friends McLaggen would need to scrub up on his table manners and his studies before he'd ever have a chance with her. Not to mention his personality left a lot to be desired.

Hermione would always be substance over style at the end of the day.

"Hermione, are you even listening?" Harry said, sounding slightly frustrated.

Her head snapped around to look at him, eyes a little wide and mouth hanging open, taken aback and bewildered.

She hadn't even heard him talking!

"Sorry. What were you saying?" she asked politely.

Harry stopped walking and so did she, his face was deadly serious,

"I want you to talk to Malfoy. See what you can find out."

Hermione stared at him now in horror.

What was it with these two? First Draco wanted her to get Harry's Liquid Luck for him, now Harry wanted her to spy on him? Would they ever grow up and get over their petty rivalries?

"Stop it, Harry."

The muscle in Harry's jaw flexed at her dismissal,

"He cursed Katie!" he hissed.

She could only glare at him as she remembered that day at the Three Broomsticks.

_Yes_, she had seen Draco in the pub and _yes_, he may have seemed shaken and had disappeared through a door up the stairs and _yes_, it was suspicious when no less than forty minutes later she, Harry and Ron had found Katie Bell outside in the snow, hanging in the air, screaming and thrashing about uncontrollably...but that _did not_ mean that Draco had cursed the necklace or charmed her to bring it to Dumbledore!

It was a shame what happened to Katie and it had clearly traumatised the girl a little but Harry had no place making accusations at Draco.

"I'm telling you he's up to something. I've seen him, on the Marauder's map, walking around the halls at night and everynight he vanishes. Gone. Can't find him anywhere. Tell me that's not strange."

Hermione blew out a hot breath, trying -and failing- to reign in her temper,

"Maybe the map is wrong, did you ever think of that?" she snapped,

"The map is never wrong." he said, defiantly.

She rolled her head in exasperation, a move she'd picked up from the very boy they were talking about,

"Have you even looked at the state of him, Harry? He looks _ill._ Besides what on earth do you think Voldemort would want with a student? He has more than enough followers as it is, I highly doubt he needs a sixteen year old to help him take over the wizarding world!" she pointed her finger at him, her movements brusque and angry, "Now unless you have any proof that what you're saying is true then I suggest you shut up about it because, frankly, I'm getting rather sick of hearing it."

Hermione began to stride away from him in the opposing direction, heading for the one place where she knew she'd find solace; the library, but Harry's voice stopped her,

"You know I'm right." he shouted, "You just don't want believe he's a Death Eater because you have feelings for him."

She turned on her heel and shook her head,

"How dare you?" she hissed, "I trust him! If –and I mean _if-_ he was one of them he'd tell me." she

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes, he glanced away, dubiousness playing on his face,

"Oh, would he?" his voice was dripping with sarcasm,

"Yes!"

She couldn't believe him.

For weeks he'd been making accusations against Draco. Who had done nothing mind you! He'd hardly even spoken two words to Harry thus far, other than breaking his nose he hadn't done anything to deserve Harry spreading rumours about him.

And after all it wasn't like the Boy-Who-Lived had simply kept it to himself, her and Ron, he'd even told Professor McGonagall and Snape what he thought. She was thankful that both teachers had told him not to be so hasty in his judgements. She really did think he'd have let it go by now but he hadn't. Evidently even the teachers weren't enough to stop him thinking of Draco as his enemy.

"Let's say he is one and he told you, would you still trust him then?"

Hermione bit her lip, not sure of the answer herself. She couldn't picture it. Draco wearing one of those masks, clad in death black robes, his wand aimed at her. It just wasn't feasible. The question though, wasn't could she picture it, but would she still care about him afterwards. Honestly? Yes.

But that wasn't the answer Harry was grasping for.

Harry's expression became incredulous, she could see the censorious glint in his green orbs. He clenched his fists.

"You're going to have to pick a side one day, Hermione, and it better not be him."

She let her gaze drop to the floor, debating on how best to keep her friendship to both boys intact.

"Not everything has just two sides, Harry."

When she looked up she found Harry focused on something behind her, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Hermione sucked in a breath and turned around slowly, afraid of whom she may find behind her.

Her heart sank when she saw who it was and she would have rather had anyone else standing there.

His face was sombre, almost painfully so. He turned and walked briskly in the direction she'd been heading before Harry stopped her, she was about to run after him but Harry grabbed her arm,

"Hermione..." he said in a warning tone,

"I'm sorry, Harry."

And with that she chased after the blonde haired boy, having to run to catch up with him. She followed him around the corner and down a few steps, calling out to him. He ignored her, refusing to even look back. She ran. Pushing her limbs harder. Finally she managed to catch up with him and keep pace though her breathing was quite heavy.

"Draco..." _pant,_ "please! Just listen!" she said breathily,

He looked at her once than turned back to face the direction in which heading, which, she soon realised, happened to be the entrance for the Slytherin common room.

"You shouldn't be here." was all he said.

Fuming, she ran in front of him and drew her wand,

"Draco Malfoy you will stand here and listen to me right now!" she ground out in that shrill, mothering tone of hers, the one many people were scared of, "Or I swear to Merlin I will-"

He glared at her,

"I hate to break it to you, Granger, but your not my mother." he said cuttingly, "As a matter of fact, you're _nothing_ to me."

Pain shot through her at those words.

Oddly enough, Hermione found it easier to believe that than to believe the past five years of friendship...or love...or, well, whatever in Merlin's name they were. She'd never understood why he would put everything on the line to be friends with her. She was nothing special after all. Hermione had always been afraid that one day he would tell it had all been a joke, that he was playing with her -and that was exactly what he'd said those few months ago in Diagon Ally. Worse of all he was saying again now. Did that mean he meant it? _No. No!_ A voice in the back of her head spoke. _He's lying!_ But even the voice was fraught and unconvinced.

She didn't show her self-doubt or the agony he'd inflicted on her. No. Hermione Granger rolled her head and scoffed very much the way he would if he were on the other end of this conversation,

"I find it very hard to believe that, Draco."

He ground his teeth, visibly fighting the urge to scream at her, or possibly even _hit_ something. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were whiter than usual.

Though she wasn't afraid that the victim of his anger may be her, it was more likely to be the wall. Draco may gave had a temper, but she knew he wouldn't hit her. He hadn't thus far. If anything she was likely to hit him.

"Heh, our precious little know-it-all mudblood in denial...! Isn't that new?"

With each word she felt her resolve slip. Logic told to turn around and walk away, that maybe he was telling the truth, and if so she couldn't force him to care about her, but something else...something much more powerful told her otherwise. Her gut told her exactly what she wanted to hear and that was the problem. Hermione had always had good instincts, that combined with quick mind meant she could spot a liar from a mile off.

With him though she was always out of her depth.

"If that's the case," she started slowly, her brown orbs angry and hurt despite her cool demeanor, "_why_ did you tell me to get out the forest in first year? And _why_ did you visit me when I Petrified? Better yet _why_ save me during the World Cup?" Hermione glared at him, "I suppose you expect me to believe that you did all that because you wanted to torture me further or something utterly ridiculous?" her tone became ever so softer as she shook her head, "I know you're scared, Draco, but please don't treat me like I'm stupid."

He face contorted with rage and something else, something akin to fear and, strangely, relief,

"You know what pisses me off?" he forced a snarl, she raised her brows briefly, "For the first time in my life I agree with Potter and you don't."

She narrowed eye, not in anger but in uncertainty, she wondered where he was going with this.

He shook his head and laughed a laugh that pierced her soul,

"See, Granger, I don't want you."

She smoothed her furrowed brow and jutted her chin out slightly in a frail attempt to mimic the mask he always put up. She was not going to let him see how much he'd hurt her, she would not cry in front of him or beg him to tell her he loved her. Hermione Granger was tired of crying, she'd done enough of it over te past few years and now she was going to be strong. If and when Draco grew up and told her what was bothering him then –and only then- she would tell the truth.

That his words had torn through her and that she'd decided to use his own weapon of mass destruction against him.

Although not has talented as him, she _had_ learned many things from Draco over the years.

"Well...that changes things." she replied, calmly. Too calmly.

He said nothing and merely stared at her, his sneer faltering just a tad,

"Seeing as I was going to ask you to accompany me to Slughorn's Christmas do."

Hermione looked up at him, wanting to witness his reaction, praying he would feel slightly put out knowing he'd ruined his chances. He didn't. He rolled his eyes, his expression both angry and incredulous,

"And what did you think the school -or _Potter_ and that _Oaf_ for that matter- would think of that?"

She gave a half-hearted shrug, her face still a decent enough mask of arrogance and nonchalance,

"I didn't particularly care." she said honestly.

Hermione _had_ thought of asking him, she'd already known he probably wouldn't come but she would've at least tried and _if_ he had said yes then she really would not care that there fellow students would see them together. After all it was about time.

They couldn't keep playing these silly games anymore.

He gave an acidic laugh and wrinkled his nose in distaste,

"I suppose you'll be bringing McLaggen then instead." he said, having noticed the boy's ridiculous crush on her, "He's in the Slug Club, isn't he?"

She very nearly stomped her foot. Why did boys have to be so bloody frustrating? Why couldn't they see what was right in front of them?

Hermione tried not to gag at the nauseating idea that came to mind. She really, really, _really_ did not want to do it but she could think of no other way to make Draco see sense! He had to realise how much she cared about him and how much his lying hurt her, if it meant she had to take Cormac to the Christmas do, then why not? He played games with her she had more of a right than anyone to spite him like this!

"Actually," she said, "now that you mention it I think I just might."

Hermione had the satisfaction of seeing him clench his jaw.

With that she turned around and walked away. Ready to immerse herself in some spell book in a quiet corner of the library where she would spend the next two hours crying angrily and trying to decipher the stupid blonde haired Slytherin that she was in love with.

Dear Merlin, she hated how easily he could break her.


	12. Gate Crashing

Chapter 44

Gate Crashing

Draco was tired, his eyes stung with a need for sleep, something he'd gotten very little of as of late, he touched his forefinger and his thumb to the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginning of a migraine. Tomorrow. He'd come back tomorrow, but tonight he needed a rest. Biting into the apple, he summoned the door -the same way Potter had when he formed Dumbledore's Army last term.

Stupid sod! This was all his fault, if he'd kept his filthy half-blood mouth shut Lucius wouldn't be in prison, therefore he wouldn't have to fill his shoes.

Shoes that were soaked in blood.

The door appeared, grand, decorative, he peered out to check the corridor was empty before he stepped through, letting out a breath of relief, he continued down the hall. He doubted he'd be seen anyway, it was after nine; everyone was either in their dorms or at Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, enjoying themselves. While it lasted that is.

He pondered over what Granger may be doing or who might have taken to the party. Potty and the Oaf were out of the question as they both, surprisingly, had girlfriends. Well the Oaf did at least, Potter had had to settle for a friendly date with Loony Lovegood, and _she'd_ only said 'yes' because Longbottom was playing waiter for the evening! Draco smirked. Granger was the only one of the Golden Trio still single, it was nice to say the least as he no longer had to worry they'd steal her away from him. Though it probably would be better for her if someone did snatch her up, he wanted her to be safe after all.

Draco wondered what she'd think of him if she knew what he was, the things he'd done and was still yet to do. She'd hate him and he wouldn't be able blame her. He was now one of the things she feared most, one of the things she loathed. He'd lied to her, betrayed her trust.

Borgin was right. He was just like his father.

There were footsteps, an echo of his own, a second or two behind. Breathing, irregular, as if whoever it was was trying not to inhale too deeply as it might give them away, he was tempted to spin around, pull his wand out and hex them, he couldn't, if it was a teacher or Dumbledore he could be expelled and if that happened, he'd have failed the Dark Lord, he had to be careful of these things.

He stopped to listen, were they following him? Whoever they were. Did they know it was him? Did they care why he was wandering the halls at night? Suddenly the light footsteps became heavy, urgent, they were running at him, he half turned, hand going for his wand instinctively, but before he had a chance to pull it from his trouser pocket they grabbed the back of his suit jacket,

"Wha' you doin' down 'ere, boy? Eh? Answer me!" Filch spat, revealing yellowed, crooked and gapped teeth.

Draco sneered at him, trying to think of a reasonable excuse, luckily playing with Death Eaters had given him more talent for lying,

"I was going to the Christmas do! Now let go of me!"

Filch nodded sarcastically,

"Were you? We'll see abou' that!"

"What?"

The deranged keeper said nothing as he dragged Draco down the unpredictable staircases, through the corridors, not without many protests from the lad, and towards the Potions classroom that had been converted for Slughorn's party; the room was brightly lit with candles, wreaths decorated the walls, gold voile hung at the windows, the magical radio playing Celestina Warbeck's version of _God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs_ and the professor had students handing out classes of champagne and dragon tartars and such.

Though the laughing, joking atmosphere immediately ground to a halt when Filch dragged Draco inside, people were staring, some even smirked at the sight of the pompous git being treated like a child. He simply stood there, chest rising and falling, he was in for it.

"Take your hands off me, you filthy squib!"

He noticed Granger as she gently pushed her way to the front of the crowd, she looked flustered and slightly guilty, her hair -which was simply pinned back off her face but left to drape and curl over her shoulders- looked a tad frazzled.

She folded her arms over herself uncomfortably to hide just how low cut her pretty cream dress was. He met her eyes. Desperately trying to convey to her that it wasn't what it looked like, but he knew she'd noticed the change in him. They'd been friends since they first met on train, they might not have known it then, but there was something between them, something irrevocable. So it wasn't really any wonder she'd seen through him, she always did, although this time there was the likelihood of her getting hurt...a thought he despised.

"Professor Slughorn, sir, I just discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor." Filch said, smugly.

Draco stared at her, humiliated that she had to see him look so pathetic.

He could see the cogs in her head working. Confusion, hurt, doubt and shame all flickered across her beautiful features. He understood the first three; she was bewildered as to what he was up to, hurt that he'd lied and dubious that it was for a good reason. It was the last emotion that bugged him though, as he had no idea what she had to be ashamed of. He was too engrossed in analysing her expression to notice the figure come up beside her until she turned to look at him. Draco's heart sank when he recognised her date. McLaggen's hand slipped around her waist as he leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. She gave a small smile.

Draco felt the tears begin to sting his eyes, a lump formed in his throat. He avoided looking at the two, fearing what the image would do to him. His body shook from shock and hurt, his mouth went dry.

He had to get out. God, he needed out of there! He couldn't bear standing there knowing she was with...with _him_!

"He claims to have been invited to your party." the keeper continued,

"Okay, okay! I was gate-crashing. Happy?" he glared at the old man with a look that could kill.

Snape crossed the room until he was no more than a few inches from the pair, his mouth pressed into a hard line,

"I'll escort him out."

He stared up at his godfather with a knowing look, attempting to hide his pain at seeing the girl he loved with a lech of a bloke. Draco pulled his shoulder forwards suddenly, effectively forcing Filch to release him, he straightened his jacket,

"Certainly, professor." he replied.

His eyes darted over to Granger's form once more, she was still talking to that bastard McLaggen and blushing deeply. Draco had an incredible urge to storm over there and hex the slimy git into oblivion. It was disgusting the way he looked her over as if she were Honeydukes sweet shop and he was Crabbe!

Granger caught his gaze. Half defensive, half guilty. Draco rolled his eyes and made his leave, roughly pushing past Filch as he did so. Snape followed suit.

Once in the hall and out of earshot, Draco decided to get to the point and the tedious lecture that was sure to follow,

"Maybe I did hex that Bell girl." he said, angrily, "Maybe I didn't. What's it to you?"

Snape shoved him up against the wall, hands on either side of the wall, pinning the lad in place,

"I swore to protect you." it was clear he was furious, "I made the Unbreakable Vow!"

He backed up a bit, aware that the professor had little control over his temper. They were much the same in that respect. But soon the idea that he was being treated like a child got to him.

Never mind he couldn't seem to get the image of Granger and that foul little maggot out of his head,

"I don't need protection!" he spat back, "I was chosen for this. Out of all others. Me!"

His godfather allowed his hands to fall to his side, his dark eyes hardening,

"And I won't fail him."

"You're afraid, Draco, you attempt to conceal it but it's obvious. Let me assist you."

The young Death Eater paced the width of the corridor, running a hand through his hair as he often did when he was nervous or frustrated,

"No! _I_ was chosen!" he insisted, "This is _my_ moment!"

Considering himself to be special didn't make things any easier. It didn't make feel requisite as it ought to. In fact, it only served to make the weight of his task heavier. He had to prove to the Dark Lord there was a damn good reason for keeping them alive. Was it not admirable? To sacrifice his life for his parents? He thought so. Even if he wasn't such a coward, even if he was willing to face death in order to retain his integrity, he wouldn't want to drag his mother and father down with him, hence he would still be here, standing in this corridor.

He'd done some awful things but he refused to allow himself to sink lower than he already had, he refused to accept help.

Draco scowled at the professor, when Snape's next words cut through him,

"And what of Miss Granger?"

His hands clenched and unclenched, he could not put into words his hatred for McLaggen. In a way it ran deeper than his hatred for Potter, because unlike the latter, McLaggen didn't give a damn about Granger, he wanted her for a quick shag, then he'd get bored and move on to someone else.

McLaggen didn't love her, he didn't appreciate her, he didn't even respect her!

"What of the mudblood?"

"Don't pretend with me, Draco, I saw you second term when Miss Granger was Petrified. You think I didn't know you were sneaking around the castle to see her each night?"

His lip quivered as he sucked in a breath, his palms now sweaty, he thought Snape had forgotten. He figured it would have slipped his mind after four years, apparently not. Draco prayed his godfather wouldn't mention it to Voldemort, he dreaded to think what the Dark Lord would do if he found out he had feelings for a muggle-born,

"Although, I have no intention of informing the Dark Lord of your secret, I do, however, request you to stay away from her for both your safety and hers. As I doubt you would be in a position to carry out your task if something...unfortunate should happen."

Erratically, his heart pounded, faster and faster, he anticipated it grinding to a halt from exhaustion. The blood rushed through his veins. Nothing could deaden the dread welling inside him,

"That a threat, professor?" he snarled in reply,

"Not a threat but a fact."

Snape was right. Snape was always right.

Draco held his tongue, reigning in his fury. It wouldn't do him any good to thump the wall and yell that he didn't want this anymore. That he wanted the Dark Lord dead himself, that he wanted Granger, that he couldn't give a damn about her blood. He refrained.

His godfather said nothing, but simply turned and walked away.

The blonde stood there for a moment. Not sure what to do. He felt as though he no longer had a place in the world, his only purpose was to be used as a pawn in the Dark Lord's game. Disposable in an instant. He couldn't say for certain that anyone would really miss him. He didn't have that many people who cared for him anyway and half –if not all of them- would probably be happier without him around. For if he was killed, his parents were likely to follow. Snape only cared for him because he had to, so his despair at the young Slytherin's death would be highly unlikely. As for Granger…well, she'd forget him one day. He knew she'd meet someone else and marry him, she'd have children, and Draco doubted she would ever look back, if she did it would be in anger, not nostalgia.

He couldn't blame her. He was burden. A dead weight on her shoulders after all.

Draco knew one thing though. When he died –and it shouldn't be long now before he did- he would miss them. His parents, Snape, Granger, Dobby, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Zabini, even Potter in a way.

It wasn't until two blurred figures stumbled out of the party that Draco realised he was crying. He did that a lot lately, it seemed even the smallest of things could get to him. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to smooth his features, afraid someone may see him like this. His vision no longer obscured with tear he could see the couple in front of him clear as day.

The bushy haired girl and tall lad with ash blonde hair were standing too close to one another for his liking. A part of him expected her to push the lad away. She didn't. Although her back was to Draco, he saw her head bob slightly and knew she'd said something to the tall lad, but it too quiet for Draco to overhear. McLaggen smirked down at her and Draco watched as his lips came crashing down onto hers, his hands on her waist. Draco's world came down around him as he watched McLaggen deepen the kiss while his hands moved lower and lower.

The blonde turned away, unable to look anymore, and stormed down the hall.

In that moment he felt his heart fracture. A lump formed in his throat, his entire being shook from the sheer agony that was taking over his entire being. In that moment he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. He shut his eyes tight, trying to rid the image from his mind, but it was burned onto the inside of his skull, forever there to torture him.

The young Death Eater quickened his pace and ran up the unpredictable staircases, down the corridors and burst through the door to the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. Myrtle gave him a concerned looked and cocked her head to the side. He shut the door behind him and slid down to the ground, his legs too weak to hold him, he sat there, his head hung low, and succumbed to loud sobs that he couldn't hold back no matter how hard he tried. In an instant, Myrtle was next to him, trying to sooth him.

It seems he had her at least.

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><p><strong>AN: To prevent confusion, I would like to mention that Hermione has no interest in Cormac whatsoever, in this scene she was quietly telling him to leave her alone when they left the party, but he forced himself on her. This is just what Draco is seeing.**


	13. Contention

**A/N: First of all I AM SO SORRY for this highly belated update! I lost the original chapter and had to re-write the entire thing, unfortunately I found that a bit daunting and could never find the time what with assignments, but I decided that you guys had waited long enough. So here you go, my assignments now late but sod it. Again I am so, so, so sorry. Hopefully this chapter and the next were worth the wait.**

***Also you might like to listen to either Natalie Merchent's _My Skin_, Sia's _Breath Me_ or anything by Susie Suh. Basically some sort of really sad, emotional music works best with this chapter. **

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><p><span>Chapter 45<span>

Contention

Draco stepped off the train, sleek leather satchel in hand. He made his way over to Filch in order to have his bags searched in the same way he had earlier in September. He said nothing as the deranged keeper checked his bag, he wasn't worried, not that there was anything for Filch to find there, but even if there was it wouldn't matter. He had become rather numb in the two weeks.

The Malfoys had not celebrated Christmas with champagne and lavish gifts as they would have, instead they spent it in meetings with the Dark Lord and for Draco the holiday consisted of torturing muggles and muggle-borns as a means of learning to use the Cruciartus curse. Aunt Bella had taken great pleasure in teaching him, she, as well as many of the others, had been more than happy to take over when he brought up the lining of his stomach. They even turned the curse on him on occasion, whether for fun or because they thought him weak he didn't know.

He couldn't say he wasn't getting used to it, besides some things hurt more than the Torture Curse.

In part it his sudden withdrawal into himself was because of _her_. The sight of her with…it had not merely broken something inside him, it had killed him. He felt it. A part of him had died that night. All he felt now was resentment and repugnance at himself and twisted, gnarled world around him.

Draco was bitter, yes, but he had reason to be!

Everything he loved had been snatched away in only a few months and he no hope of ever getting it back. It may have been better this way, with nothing left what was there to worry about? But it didn't make it any easier. It didn't comfort to know that through him being alone she would not be killed because of him, it only made him think of the many other ways she may die once the Dark Lord rose again.

Things were getting worse by the minute at Hogwarts, so much so that Dumbledore had had the Threstrals guarding the perimeter around the castle. Meaning there was nothing to pull the coaches and that the students had to walk. It was as he made his way up the hill towards the castle, face solemn, that the very person who his thoughts had been centred around for some time now appeared beside him, her breathing ragged, she looked around in panic, seeming somewhat neurotic.

She looked particularly lovely today in a snug, lavender coloured jumper that complimented her skin beautifully, paired with her striped scarf and simple jeans.

"What do you want?" he snapped, justifiably angry with her.

She could have told him at least! Warned him beforehand, but no, she let him find out on his own, let the blow hit him full force and made no attempt to shield him from it. What made it worse was these few months she had made it seem as though she still felt something for him.

"I've just escaped." she said, as if nothing had changed between them.

Her sentence caused his own panic to arise. What had she escaped from? Had a Death Eater Apparated on to the train? Were they here know? Or was it something else? He glanced around despite himself, his guts churning.

"Care to expand on that, Granger?" his tone was of forced nonchalance, something she no doubt noticed.

She looked him over once, her eyes darted to the left as if remembering something, she bit her lip,

"Actually, no, I think I better not."

Her elusiveness left him irritated. More so than he already was.

"Then why bring it up?"

The students and teachers brushed past them, a look of confusion on their faces, not because the pair were arguing –as anyone would know they always argued- but it was more that they kept in pace with each other despite. He didn't take long strides or quicken his pace in an attempt to get rid of her and she didn't fall back and wait for Potter and the Oaf.

They walked side by side, in perfect time with one another. Like two sides of the same coin, different yes, but a part of each other.

Or at least she was a part of him.

"_You_ asked what I was doing!"

"_I_ asked what you wanted!" he ground out, "Not I care."

Granger stopped walking and visibly stiffened, her jaw set, brown eyes lit with rage.

"Then next time keep your mouth shut!"

He stopped and turned to face her fully now. Glaring down at her in disbelief, stunned by her harsh, blunt words. After what she'd done, she actually had the gall to speak to him in such a way!

"How dare you?"

"Forgive me," she said, scathingly sarcastic, "for trying to be civil!"

Draco laughed acidly,

"_Civil? _That's what you call civil?" he sneered at her, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised what with your heritage. Mudblood."

The insult seemed to have no effect on her, no hurt, no trying to worm him away from his father's beliefs.

Beliefs she knew would never really be his own.

"Ferret!"

Draco's eyes were glued to tall lad with ash blonde hair, who glanced at Granger as he passed, a self-satisfied smirk on his slimy face.

He felt another bit of him die and flay away. It was as if her presence in his life had filled some kind of hole in him, where all the bitterness and pain liked to dwell, and with her gone there was no-one and nothing to stop those wretched feelings.

He felt quite like a child again.

That child whose father beat him, whose mother smothered him yet turned a blind eye to his bruises all the same, whose sole comfort was that when he grew up he would be a powerful wizard and his parents would be proud of him.

All he'd ever wanted was to feel loved. To know that when he died someone would miss him. None of it mattered now though, because the one person he'd given his whole heart and soul to, the one person he put before himself, hated him. Like an insect, she had picked him apart and left him near death to crawl around in the dirt. No-one would care if they stepped on him and crushed him. In fact they probably wouldn't even notice.

He wasn't important.

Draco grit his teeth, trying to stomp out his desolation and replace it with something he was much more comfortable with…being a complete and utter bastard.

"Why don't you just run along to McLaggen?"

The words bled out of him, a natural result of his torment.

Realisation dawned on her perfect features, her brows knit together, her lips pressed in a hard line, nostrils flared. She shoved him hard enough that he lost his balance and staggered backwards,

"You're really thick, you know that?"

"Bet you loved it, didn't you?" he snarled, "Having that smarmy sods hands all over you?"

She smacked him. He supposed he should have seen it coming. Her expression contorted with disgust at his choice of words, his own face stung, evidence that he had once again crossed the line, and he severely doubted she'd forgive him this time. He had an incredible urge to rub his cheek, but he refrained from doing so and merely glowered at her.

Granger's hands were balled into fists while she stared at him,

"Don't you ever –_ever!_- speak to me that way again!"

Draco's grey-blue eyes met her brown ones, now muddy with tears, he set his jaw and looked away. Not wanting to admit that he'd made her cry. It was becoming an awful habit of his and he hated himself for it.

Just then, Potter and the Oaf appeared beside her.

The last of the students, escorted by one or two teachers, made their way up the hill, leaving the four of them alone in the dark January night. It put him on edge being this close to her and with only Potter and the Oaf there too.

There was once a time when he would want to be alone with her, in the safe solitude where they could talk amongst themselves about anything and everything, where he wouldn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't. He didn't know whether it was because he was afraid they were watching or because if they attacked she would be harder to get to, but something about being surrounded by a throng of people comforted him.

Both Potter and the Oaf gave him a look that could kill.

Knowing what was out there. Knowing what he could do, did they truly believe he was afraid of them? If anything Draco would much rather die at their hands than the Dark Lord's.

At least with them it would be quick.

"What have you done now, Malfoy?" the Oaf said, sounding not only irritated but tired too, "Why can't you just sod off back to whatever hole you crawled out of?"

The young Death Eater's lip curled.

"Fortunately, not all of us live like rats." Draco replied, his tone merciless, earning himself a hard glare from Granger.

The Oaf frowned, his eyes suddenly drawn to his feet.

"Just give me a minute." Granger's voice cut the heavy silence that had enveloped the quartet, she turned to Potty and the Oaf, "I'll meet you inside."

If it were possible, Draco would have said that Potter's expression became instantly all the more serious.

"No, I'm not leaving you alone with him, Hermione."

The blonde's brows rose sarcastically, he held back a mordant chuckle. Draco was quite at a loss as whether or not to be offended by that. On one hand, Potter's obvious ignorance amused him, on the other he found it hard not to break the git's nose a second time. Did the sod honestly think that he could hurt her? Intentionally? And not with mere words but actually physically _hurt her_? Even in his own mind the image of himself standing over her, wand aimed at her while he uttered the Cruciartus curse, disturbed him to no end. That imagining alone caused his heart to tighten and a lump form in his throat while the guilt welled within him.

"Go, Harry! Just this once, please, sod off."

Potter remained unmoving, like a statue, his expression as stony as his form. It put Draco on edge. The blonde ground his teeth together. A silent battle of wills broke between the two boys; Potter's determination not to leave versus Draco's determination to stay there -where he would surely have to face the truth of what he now was and that there was no going back, for he couldn't bring Granger into that world. It took all his effort not to run though. He wanted nothing more than to bury the thoughts he was plagued with, to sweep them under the rug and pretend they didn't exist. It wasn't that easy however, because no matter how hard he tried to hide from the truth and the weight of his task, time ticked by. Reminding him of it. Every second of every day, he felt time pressing down on him, mocking him. Each tick of the clock seemed to laugh at him while bit by bit his morals were stripped away. Flayed, like flesh from bone, as it would be if he failed.

No, now that he was here, there was certainly no going back. It was very much a case of life or death. He could choose to stand by her, to fight and he'd die. They both would. Or he remain silent, kill the man who was more a father to him than his own and pray that she was safe.

How had it come to this?

"Come on, mate." the Oaf said in an attempt at comfort, "She knows what she's doing."

Potter's eyes flickered to Granger's pleading face, and his resolve seemed to falter a fraction. But it was enough to make him blow out a breath and surrender, it wasn't enough however to keep him from throwing a glare towards Draco. One, that had Draco been only a slightly weaker person, would have shook him a way he never thought possible.

"If you do anything to her, Malfoy, I swear I'll-"

"You'll what, Potter? Kill me?" Draco let out a laugh, as acidic as it always was now, "Go ahead."

Fuelled by anger and unable to resist the temptation to curse him, Potter pulled out his wand. The Boy-Who-Lived's body shook with anger and -Draco could tell- the fear of what he might do if the blonde provoked him further. Draco suppressed a bitter smirk. He needn't be afraid of Potter when the Dark Lord was out there somewhere and Death Eaters lurked around every corner. When nightmares and reality had somehow muddled into one, creating an inescapable hell he was forced to endure every waking moment.

Yes, of all the things he'd witnessed over these few short months, Draco had learnt that there were many, many more things to fear than he'd first though, yet Harry Potter wasn't one of them.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Granger's voice sliced through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.

She stood in between them now, her chest rising and falling with anger, fear and desperation.

Without a word, Potter lowered his wand and turned on his heel to leave. Draco watched his two childhood enemies walk away. He faintly heard the Oaf mumbling something to Potter, it was an incoherent sound. A distant noise. But he heard his name and what sounded like the Oaf having a go at Potter. If Draco had to venture a guess he'd have said the Oaf was telling Potter off for very nearly starting a fight between them. It was the first time in all his life Draco had actually felt something akin to agreement with the freckled-faced sod.

In an instant Granger turned to him, she sucked in a breath before letting it out again to give her defence or whatever. Draco had almost forgotten what they were arguing about in the first place –for all he knew it could have been anything from something really quite serious to something utterly ridiculous. They seemed to fight over nothing sometimes.

"I only took Cormac because I thought it would annoy you. I thought it would make you see sense." she added with emphasis, tears welling in her eyes, "Make you realise that I'm not going anywhere. Draco, I lov-"

"No, don't say it." he said, backing up immediately.

He turned his head away from her, so afraid of those words. Words he'd wanted to hear all his life –from someone other than his mother. Words he would never hear again if he were to complete his task. After all how could someone as good and a perfect as Granger love someone like him? A traitor? A killer? Because in only a few days from now that's what he would be.

The cabinet was almost ready and no matter how much he wanted to he knew he couldn't hold off for much longer otherwise the Death Eaters on the other side would start to notice and the Dark Lord would not stand for procrastinating.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy! Not Cormac, not Harry. Just you!"

He was finished. Three words. That's all it had taken. Three words and he was done for. Tears rolled down his face and there was no stopping them, he staggered backwards, hand clasped over his mouth as if that could somehow silent the sobs that escaped him.

It should have been the happiest moment of his life, but it wasn't. In fact it was heart-breaking, because for a moment he very nearly threw caution to the wind and kissed her. A thick, heavy wave of self-loathing washed over him, fresher and more substantial than any before. He could too easily be the death of her. Imagine what the Dark Lord would do if he found out. Images burned into Draco's skulls, screams that haunted him, the memory of all of those bodies that lined the manor that night –anyone of them could be her if he hadn't restrained himself. How could he be so selfish as to drag her into this?

Draco shut his eyes tight, trying to rid himself of these thought and convince himself that she was a figment of his imagination. Right now, he'd have given everything to have her be ethereal, to be able to lock her away in his mind, where she would be safe, peaceful, happy. Where he wouldn't be able to hurt her and neither would anyone else. Where they could actually be together without the worry of anyone knowing.

Sobs shook him to his very core when she took his hand and he opened his eyes to find that she _was_ real. She _could_ be hurt. She _could_ die. She _would _die if he didn't end it once and for all, but how could he now he knew she really loved him?

Draco had never been so torn in all his life.

"I'll change if that's what you want." she managed tearfully, "I'll stop bossing you about, and I won't hit you with books anymore. I'll even learn to play Quidditch." she let out a laugh, but he couldn't even manage a smile in return.

He tried to pull away, to push her hands from his but she persisted,

"I d-don't want you to c-change. But you're b-better off without me."

Granger's gaze fell to the ground, her long lashes damp with tears, she looked up at him again, her expression pleading and agonisingly honest.

"I can't even remember how it was without you. I don't think I'd care to either."

She reached up on her tip toes, her lips drawing closer to his. Every bone, muscle, and nerve in his body told him to let her, but something else somewhere inside him knew better and so he pushed her away and withdrew his wand.

The tip of his wand was aimed at her heart. She didn't move, not even to flinch, she simply gazed at him with those big, brown orbs of her, allowing her deepest emotions to pour out of them and cut through him. It was painful and beautiful and something that he would never experience again. Oh yes, he could feel it; their time together was coming to a close. Much too quickly for his liking.

"Don't make me do it." he begged, knowing that if she pushed him he would.

Granger took a step closer, the wand now digging into her chest,

"It's just one word, Draco." she said calmly, not a trace of fear in her voice, just longing and love.

He didn't want to.

He knew he should, it would make everything a lot easier. But she was the only one who truly understood him and loved him despite everything he'd done. She was the first person to actually want to be his friend, not for money or power, but she wanted to be around him. He'd never felt so happy as when he was with her. The had bonded over the years, become two sides of the same coin in a way and no matter how much she hated him, there would always a closeness, an understanding.

So no, Draco Malfoy did not want to make her forget him. Even though the truth would crush her, he couldn't imagine seeing that kind of distance in her eyes.

He needed her to love him.

Granger hung her head, and took a step back,

"You my best friend." she said, before walking off.

Legs weak, Draco sank to the ground as his sobs recommenced. He put his wand to his head. He wasn't sure if the killing curse worked on oneself, but why not give it a try? A part of him really, genuinely wanted to die. To not have to deal with everything anymore. Draco lowered his wand. He couldn't do it.

He was too much of a coward at the end of the day.


	14. Deeper Cuts

Chapter 46

Deeper Cuts

Light shone through the grand windows, giving the castle a holy, sort of sacred glow, little did the professors and students know what would take place tonight, the dark and demented creatures that would plague the school grounds.

Draco refused to refer to the other Death Eaters as people, for they didn't have an ounce of compassion or regret and therefore they couldn't possibly be human.

The other night had destroyed something inside him. He was still deciding whether it was good or bad, Granger's declaration had stolen his ability to bury his emotions, the harlequin mask he was rarely without had fractured in half, irreparable, no matter how hard he tried to fix it in place he felt the cracks and could see his fellow classmates' beady eyes attempting to peer through.

The moment those words left her mouth, the words he'd been waiting so long to hear, all the things that made Draco ruthless and calculating began to slip away, he no longer had the strength to feign callousness, whether from exhaustion or something else, he couldn't tell. There had been so many lines drawn for him in terms of where he stood with muggle-borns, what morals he had, what he'd do for his family, yesterday they had been crystal clear, he may have crossed them but he'd always understood, now...because of Granger, the lines had burred into one, he couldn't separate what was expected of him from where his loyalties ought to lie.

He tried to focus on the matter at hand as he made his way to the Great Hall, hands in his pockets, head down, he'd be alright if he didn't look at her, but however much he tried he couldn't block out her voice, she, Potter and the Oaf were discussing his recent release from the hospital, along with the Oaf's girlfriend Lavender Brown, that is.

Though he'd never admit it to Granger, it was his fault, Draco had inadvertently gotten the Oaf poisoned by lacing a bottle of rum intended for Dumbledore with nectar from the highly toxic Deadly Nightshade plant. He felt guilty, both because he'd meant to kill a man who was more a father to him than his own blood father had ever been and also because he'd caused Granger a fair bit of grief whilst doing it.

Draco glanced up to catch Granger whispering to Potter, who immediately stood, collecting his tattered Potions book, he made his way towards th end of the hall. Draco's breathing caught in his throat, his heart constricted painfully with fear, until it began pumping faster and faster, cold sweat found its way upon on the surface of his skin.

Then, as if it could get any worse, Katie Bell met his gaze, Potter turned to look over his shoulder, face darkening.

_He knows! _A voice screamed in Draco's head, followed by a gruff command for him to run and, after a brief glance at Granger, Draco did as the voice had ordered; he turned on his heel and fled the Great Hall.

His heart pounded against his ribs, hard enough to hurt, to cause his lungs to struggle against its strength, effectively choking him, he ran up the steps so fast his shirt sleeves billowed out behind him -once they had fit snugly, he'd lost so much weight since being given his task. Draco turned left, still not quite able to breathe, he heard the footsteps behind him, felt the threatening gaze making holes in his back.

It was all over. He was dead. His family was dead. Voldemort wouldn't just kill them, he'd destroy them!

Tears stung his already bloodshot eyes, sore and puffy from the vast amount of crying he'd done the past week. He glanced back over his shoulder again, seeing Potter's dark form come up to round the corner, Draco's head snapped round back to the front, with a shaky hand he reached up to loosen his tie_, _hoping that would make it easier, it didn't. Stormy grey-blue eyes stared off into the distance, the memory of Voldemort holding his wand to his father's neck whilst Antonin Dolohov held his mother by her hair, his face may have hidden beneath the metal mask but Draco could see the sick twinkle in his eyes, it haunted him.

'_Lucius has failed me one too many times. You, young Draco, must give me reason to keep your poor parents and yourself alive. Unless you wish to end up like the Diggory's...Nagini would be so happy to oblige...'_

He remembered watching the large snake devour Amos and Nigella Diggory, whom were lying in a pool of their own blood, eyes wide with fear, or they had been before Nagini's mouth closed over their heads. The memory quickly became distorted, he unwillingly imagined his mother and father in the dead couple's place. His expression contorted into one of agony.

Draco moved his head ever so slightly to see Potter still following him, he turned down the next corner and ran up the stairs to the bathroom on the third floor, slamming the door behind him, he hurried over to the sink, clasping the marble with both hands, knuckles scarily white even for him, rocking back and forth, his breathing hard and shallow, his stomach churning. _Shit, shit, shit! I don't want to die!_ His head screamed. _I can't let them die! _He tugged the grey sleeveless school jumper roughly over his head, tousling his neatly combed hair.

Taking deep breathes didn't erase the taste of bile in his mouth, it didn't rid him of the horrific images that tortured him. Images he knew weren't just figments of his imagination but very real possible outcomes for him and his parents. Draco lifted his head to look at himself in the mirror, what he saw was not the cocky -if a tad troubled- boy he used to be but a ghost, a grey shadow of his former self. He hung his head. Ashamed and disgusted by his reflection.

The young Death Eater tried to calm himself by splashing cold water on his already deathly cool skin. It did nothing; sobs racked his body, shaking him to his core. He was going to die. Because he was an idiot, a coward, because for all the horrible things he was, he wasn't a killer. Not really.

He hadn't even had a chance to do anything meaningful with his life.

He doubted he'd ever made his father truly proud and he certainly hadn't been as great a son as his mother deserved.

Footsteps caused him to look up just as the person behind him spoke. Draco's face darkened. He saw the madness in his eyes by means of the mirror, reflecting the insanity that was inside his head.

"I know what you did, Malfoy." Potter said in that self-righteous tone of his, "You hexed her, didn't you?"

Draco turned to face the lad, beads of water and sweat running down his face, his lip quivered with every sharp intake of breath. He wanted to reply, to cut the boy with words that he would never recover from yet all the blonde managed was a couple of grunts and so Potter's face remained impassive, Draco's rage swelled.

He fired his curse at Potter, there was a blast of blue light that barely missed the boy as he hid behind a pillar, the favour was soon returned, Draco ducked, the glass of the mirror shattered as Potter's own curse struck, water spluttered out from a burst pipe. The Slytherin took to hiding behind one end of the rows of cubicals, he fired another dark hex at the Boy-Who-Lived as he ran to the other side of cubicals, again he missed. The blonde waited, hoping to hear Potter's footsteps, hoping his Gryffindor bravery would give the more cunning lad the upper-hand. He peered round the stall to find the dark-haired boy was yet to move from his hiding space, Draco bit back a growl.

It was then he thought of something, silently he got down on his hands and knees, his wand at the ready, pointed at the far side of the cubicals where Potter was sure to look. And just at he predicted, the boy got to his knees the same way he, himself, had, hands pressed flat on the floor, face slowly coming into view.

Potter's eyes went wide as Draco fired a dark curse at him, the boy jerked back, evading the attack by only a couple of inches, Draco could still see his wand underneath the stalls.

The Slytherin spent no time waiting for Potter to get up, instead he began silently making his way around the cubicals, only to find Potter had beat him to it, they both stood there, wands aimed at one another, he was just about to use the Cruciatus curse when the spell he had yet to come across left Potter's half-blood mouth,

"_Sectumsempra!"_ he yelled.

It happened so fast Draco barely had time to react before the curse hit him. A burst of white light engulfed him. He felt it slash through numerous parts of his face and torso, the pain was sharp and filled his entire being. When the light vanished he staggered backwards before collapsing to the waterlogged floor with a splash. His face a mask of scarlet, his shirt soaked in his own blood. He knew this was it. His vision began to blur, the room became smaller as it began to go black, his once pounding heart began to slow. He was dying.

"No! Please, no! Draco? Draco, please, look at me!"

He heard it, the beautiful voice of the angel he did not deserve. Why could he see the outline of such a marvellous creature sitting over him as he bled to death? Why was it crying for him?

"Tell her..." he croaked to the angel, who's hand now clasped his, while the other stroked his face, "Tell...her I-" he coughed up more blood, "-love her."

She sat in the chair beside his bed. Her hands holding his tightly, eyes raw and rimmed red. He lay there, agonisingly still, his chest bandaged and his face a mask of cuts, there was still a little blood in his hair from where his fringe had fallen into his eyes while he was being carried out the of bathroom. She understood it now, his anger everytime she turned up to class with cuts and bruises. He was the most important thing in the world to her. She needed him. She loved him and all she'd been able to do was sit and watch him bleed.

Hermione could barely look at Harry, she was far too livid, instead she kept her gaze fixed solely on Draco, for fear she might do something drastic if she acknowledged the other boy's presence in the room.

She vaguely heard Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall giving Harry a very hard going at. Though it wasn't quite enough for her liking, they seemed far too eager to take into account that Draco had attacked him first and Harry didn't know what he was doing –not to mention they were too flabbergasted by her crying over his bedside.

She knew herself Harry hadn't set out to kill Draco and every now and then she'd feel guilty for being as angry as she was with him, but then she would be reminded that had Snape not been there he'd be...dead. Everytime she thought about how close she'd come to losing him forever, her heart would clench, her lungs would cave in and tears would make their way down her cheeks.

It didn't matter that she was crying over someone who was supposedly her arch-nemesis in front of the headmaster, her head of house, Snape, Madame Pomfrey and Harry. She didn't care who saw. His steady breaths were the only thing keeping her sanity intact right now.

It was sad though. Awful, that the only people besides herself who'd come to visit him were there out of duty and nothing else.

"Thank you." Hermione said, in a murmur, to Snape for the hundredth time. He merely nodded modestly, she swore she saw something flicker across his hard features, something akin to knowing and regret.

"Come away everyone. Mr. Malfoy is well tended." Dumbledore motioned for them to leave, which they all did, closing the door behind them.

With the exception of Harry that is, she still refused to look at him but could feel him staring at her.

Her iciness towards him and her down-trodden mood reflected in the room as it began to snow above their heads, Harry dusted the white substance off his shoulder while she simply left hers to melt. She didn't need to look at the Boy-Who-Lived's face to know he was paler than usual, she'd seen it earlier in the bathroom. He'd looked somewhat ill ever since the incident. She knew it had shook him to see what he'd done, but she also didn't have it in her to forgive him just yet. Despite his efforts to apologise.

"Hermione, I'm really sorry. You must know I didn't mean to do this." he gestured to the blonde lying motionless in the hospital bed, a form she had hardly taken her eyes off since finding him half-dead.

Anger flared once again inside her as she remembered the words he said to her whilst she held him, words that could very easily –too easily- have been his last...

_Tell her...tell her I love her. _

She let out a shaky breath as her eyes became damp once more,

"I told you to get rid of that book weeks ago!" she hissed,

"I know, I know, and I should have listened to you but you have to understand...he cursed Katie, I confronted him the bathroom and he didn't even deny it, he laced that bottle of rum with poison and nearly k-"

Hermione could not believe he was pulling the martyr act after what he'd done. Didn't he know how much Draco meant to her? Had she not told him how much they'd been through and that even after everything he was still there for her? He still helped for her at the World Cup for crying out loud! She owed him.

"And you nearly killed him!" she cut him off, she heard him heave a sigh and from the corner of her eye saw him clench his fists,

"So that's it then? You're not even going to look at me?"

She turned her head to face him.

"Ever since you two snogged that day on the Astronomy Tower," Hermione bit her lip at the memory that was both her most beloved and most painful, "it's like you're a completely different person. I just want the Hermione I knew back, you know, the one I met on the train five years ago."

It was her turn to sigh. Her anger dissolved. She never was really any good at holding grudges,

"I'm no different than I was back then. And you will get your friend back..." she pulled an apologetic face, "Just not yet."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short by a broken voice below them, Hermione turned back to look at the unconscious boy, she caressed his knuckles with her slender thumb,

"-ang..er. G-Grang...Granger." he mumbled in a weak voice, "Granger!" he whispered more fearfully.

She leaned down to kiss his forehead,

"Shhh." she said, "I'm here. It's alright." this seemed to calm him a bit, though not as much as she'd have liked.

She glanced back at Harry, her big brown eyes full of concern.

"I'm sorry." he repeated.


	15. The Truth Inside the Lie

**A/N: Hey, sorry about this late update. As I said on my profile, been going through a lot (emotionally and physically) these past three months. So yeah. Anyway, I'm back and I hope you enjoy this chapter. RxR! **

**XXXX**

**P.S You guys are amazing for sticking with me even though this half of the story has been all over the place. Free hugs for everyone. **

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><p><span>Chapter 47<span>

The Truth Inside the Lie

She was so focused on his ever so slightly laboured breathing that she barely noticed the door to the hospital wing being gently pushed open. It wasn't until the faint footsteps gradually got nearer that she realised it wasn't Madame Pomfrey, but instead it was the two boys she both dreaded and longed to see.

Hermione shot up from her seat beside Draco's bed before running over to the pair of them, she embraced both Harry and Ron in a potentially life-threating hug, her arms wound so tightly around their waists that they almost went blue from asphyxiation. They hugged her back, each a little awkward in their own right –Harry because he wasn't entirely sure if she was still angry with him and Ron because he wasn't sure what to think of the whole situation.

As far as Ron knew Harry had attacked Draco in self-defence and Hermione was angry with him and had spent the past few hours with Draco. Poor Ron probably felt so completely out of the loop by now that he was just too tired from trying to work it out.

"I'm so glad you're here." Hermione choked out, "Harry, I'm so sorry for how I acted earlier...I didn't mean –well, I_ was_ angry but I shouldn't have..." she sucked in a deep breath, "I was horrible and I'm sorry."

Harry smiled and took her hand, caressing it slowly with his thumb as they stared at each other,

"How's he doing?" he nodded over to Draco, who was still sleeping soundly.

Hermione looked back at the blonde, then back to Harry and Ron,

"He's...alright." she looked down at her feet, "I was so scared."

Harry gave her hand a little squeeze,

"I know, I know."

It was then Ron cleared his throat and the two immediately turned to look at him. The auburn haired lad was rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands in his pockets and a slightly irritated smile on his face.

"Yeah, well, unfortunately I don't. Harry told me you and Malfoy are friends...what -where did this come from?"

Ron's face was rapidly growing red with anger, both Hermione and Harry could see the thoughts playing out in his head, the confusion, the betrayal, the hurt and most frequent the sheer disapproving rage that such a thing was even possible. Hermione tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, she glanced back at Draco once again and twiddled her thumps as she looked down.

"It's a long story." she said quietly.

Ron sat on the edge of the bed –right on Draco's foot. The surprise of movement caused the blonde to move unconsciously, which in turn caused him to wince as he pulled at his injuries. Hermione glared at her friend.

"Heh, don't give me that look! I'm the one who should be angry with you, remember? In case you've forgotten he _is_ the enemy!"

The Gryffindor girl scowled at him and opened her mouth to say something, but before she got the chance Harry stepped in,

"Er...Ron, maybe you better take the chair." he said, clearly trying to be helpful.

Ron did as was suggested and took the chair bedside Draco's bed, he held his head in his hands as he sat down. He stayed like this for a few moments before finally looking up at the two,

"When were you gonna tell me about this anyway?"

The room felt silent, Harry looked awkwardly towards Hermione, as if mentally asking the same question. She looked towards him for help and found none whatsoever in his face. Not that she blamed him, she should have known long ago that a secret this big could never stay secret for long. Of course, that didn't mean however that she wasn't allowed to hope it would and if she could sweep it under the carpet right now then she certainly would. The problem was, now that both Harry and Ron knew she didn't want to have to continue lying to them.

On some level, Hermione thought that made her selfish; she didn't want to lie and so, despite knowing the truth may ruin her friendship, she proceeded to explain.

"I...didn't plan to tell you at all." she gave an apologetic face, which only seemed to make Ron more angry.

"Really? Well, thanks, that's bloody brilliant news."

"Ron!" Hermione's voice took a slightly tired and somewhat whiny tone.

She'd been studying for the past few nights and was still yet to sleep, plus all the worry over Draco and Harry was beginning to drain her, she really didn't have anything left in her for Ron to go and have a tantrum.

"What do you expect, Hermione? You're off shagging him and you don't even tell me -you tell Harry, oh yeah, 'cause everyone tells him stuff but not me. Nobody ever bothers to let me in on anything!"

Hermione sucked in a breath, her brows knitted, she pointed a finger at him,

"Firstly," she hissed, "Draco and I are not sleeping together. We've only kissed twice-"

"Wait." Harry took a step or two closer, "What do you mean 'twice'? I thought it was only that once?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. Was now really the time for such stupid questions? Honestly, she'd thought he was more practical than that.

"Yes, Harry, twice!" she ground out.

The Boy-Who-Live gave her a look that practically demanded she expand on the topic, and so she added absentmindedly;

"It was a couple of weeks after we went to the Department of Mysteries-"

"What?" Harry looked at her with nothing but sheer anger on his face, Ron watched at the pair glared at each other, "But that would mean we hadn't long broken up! And Sirius had only just been killed. By _his aunt_, need I remind you?"

"Oh, it was only a peck! And I'm more than certain you were snogging Cho the whole time!"

Harry scoffed, he turned away from her and Hermione thought he was going to walk out, but a second later he turned back and pointed a finger at her,

"You know full well I haven't spoken two words to Cho since! Besides it's not like you can honestly tell me you weren't thinking about that prat-" he threw his thumb back towards Draco "-the entire time we were together."

"Believe it or not, Harry, I recall thinking about you the majority of the time and how much easier it was being with you than him!" she spat, angry that he'd accused her of such a thing.

Yes, she had compared Harry to Draco, but never in a negative light, if anything it was the other way around.

Harry took a step back, his expression now once of surprise, with an undertone of smug satisfaction and a smile tugging at his lips.

"Really?"

Before she had a chance to answer Ron cut in,

"Excuse me, will someone please explain this to me?" he demanded angrily.

Harry took the opportunity to sit down on the bed and, just as Ron had, 'accidently' knocked Draco's foot which caused the blonde to jolt in pain once again –however, this time the Slytherin actually cried out. Hermione caught Harry's small smile and was about to have a right go at him when Ron's head snapped around to her.

"Tick, tock, Hermione!" he grumbled.

She ground her teeth together roughly, Ron was wearing her patience and she really wasn't looking forward to his reaction when he found out she'd lied to him for the past five –nearly six- years.

"Fine." she sucked in a shallow breath and stared at a particularly interesting stone slap, "Draco and I...well, we've been friends ever since we met on the train. Sort of anyway."

"Since you met on the train? I thought you met in the Great Hall like everyone else."

Hermione rolled her head in exasperation, something she'd picked up from the blonde, her words came out in a fast blur, seeming to spill from her mouth like the time she vomited in the girls toilets after finding out about Harry and Cho. Even she had trouble deciphering some of what she was saying,

"I was looking for Neville's toad and I walked into his cabin and I-I don't know...we understood each other."

"You were a bit of a snob back then."

"Ron!" Harry's voice cut through her.

Somehow the harshness of the Boy-Who-Lived's tone stopped her from thinking about it too much. Ron could be careless with his choice of words, but then so could everyone when they were angry. She and Draco could be scathingly rude or sarcastic when they wanted to be, so it obviously wasn't something she should dwell on or hold against him for that matter. Still she found a lump forming in her throat and sweat making her palms sticky.

Oh, yes, Hermione Granger was nervous.

"He was a right sod when he found out I was a muggle-born-"

"Prejudice git." Ron shook his head,

"But he apologised and we decided that we'd keep our friendship secret. I didn't want to have to lie to either of you...but I needed him and it was the only way we could be together."

"You don't honestly think he cares about you, do you?" Ron said, in much the same way Harry had two years prior.

Hermione sucked in a breath, hoping her next words would not anger either boy further, nor would she come to find them untrue,

"Oddly enough, I do." she rolled her eyes and gave a small smile, "I don't think he loves me the way I..." she gave a quick glance to Harry, who looked slightly disappointed, Hermione hung her head, "Anyway, we've fought like mad in the past few years, but...I trust him. I know you both think I shouldn't but I do and I'm sorry."

Ron sat back in his chair and scratched his face,

"Blimey." he said.

The trio remained quiet for a few moments, not one of them sure what to say. Hermione stood, her arms crossed as she shifted her weight apprehensively, Harry was clearly finding it extremely difficult to sit still and would fidget every so often resulting in a wince or a groan from Draco and Ron sat there trying to take it all in.

The auburn haired boy's expression suddenly changed, he sat up straight and leaned forward, his eyes locked with Hermione's,

"So...you knew he was a Death Eater?"

Hermione wanted to scream but instead shook her head,

"He isn't a Death Eater, Ronald."

Again, Ron scoffed, he shook his head sardonically and looked at the floor briefly before turning his attention back to her,

"Cause it's not like Malfoy to keep secrets."

Hermione eyes flickered to the blonde boy, who did indeed have secrets and it hurt to know he couldn't trust her with them. He knew everything about her, he knew her thoughts, her fears, her doubts, her need for love that birthed her demand for perfection in herself. Yet she hardly knew anything about him, yes she knew some of his fears and doubts and his need to prove himself, but she rarely knew his thoughts. Draco had kept his heart well away from his sleeve, and though she had gotten glimpses of it now and then, they were always all too brief for her to be able to say she truly knew him. Or for him to trust her with his own skeletons.

"You really do trust him, don't you?" Ron asked, watching her.

She nodded,

"It scares me sometimes just how much I trust him."

"So stay away from him."

The Gryffindor girl stared at him, trying to find the words to explain how hard it was to stay away from him. How much it hurt to even think of letting go of him.

"Walking away from someone you love is like holding your breath underwater." Harry said suddenly, "Every moment hurts more than the last, you get this lump in your throat that just won't go away and you end up floating through life, waiting for someone to pull you out."

Both Hermione and Ron looked at Harry in awe. Never had she thought of it like that, but now that she did, she realised it was exactly like drowning...only the pain lasted much, much longer.

Harry's green eyes met Hermione's,

"You'll meet someone -maybe you've already met them- and you'll think they'll see you thrashing about and they'll help you, but they don't. They can't. Nobody can."

The Boy-Who-Lived cleared his throat and turned on his heel to leave,

"Where are you going?" Ron called,

Harry turned back to the pair,

"Get our textbooks. We've got exams in a few days and I'm sure Ancient Runes and all that will help take our minds off a few things."

Hermione gave a small smile towards Harry who returned the favour while Ron groaned.

"Come to think of it, bloody Malfoy's actually a lucky sod." Ron said, before calling out to Harry a second time, "Hey, how about you Sectem-whatever me?"

Harry shook his head, smiled and left to get the books. Hermione perched herself carefully on the bed and Ron studied her face,

"Is that really how it feels to be in love?"

Hermione's brow furrowed,

"For most people it's probably wonderful, but for me...that's exactly what it's like."

Ron let out a breath,

"But he's...he's Malfoy!" he said in quiet shock.

Hermione stroked the blonde Slytherin's hair,

"He's done bad things, yes, but he's not a bad person, Ron. He can actually be quite lovely when he wants to."

Ron cocked an eyebrow, dubiously, a small disbelieving smirk on his lips,

"I doubt that."

Hermione smiled, shaking her hair from her face,

"You really like Lavender, right?"

"Yeah." he shrugged,

"You think she's beautiful, smart, funny. She understands you, doesn't she? When you're with her it's like everything's going to be alright."

He frowned, his mouth hanging open slightly, he sat back. Still quite unable to believe how she'd pinpointed his feelings for the fellow Gryffindor so easily. He stared into her big brown eyes, which held a soft understanding and patience. She didn't hate him for thinking her feelings for Draco wrong, she knew where he was coming from, she just wanted him to know that she couldn't help what she felt.

"With Draco, it's ten million times that. He's good, Ron, underneath. He does care, he's just terrified of getting hurt, of what his parents will think." she glanced at the blonde for a moment than back at Ron, "Of everything."

He nodded,

"Okay, Hermione, I trust you. Just be careful."

She smiled at him, pleased that she hadn't lost his and Harry's friendship, because that would have truly crushed her.


	16. Why Did You Change?

Chapter 47

Why Did You Change?

Slowly, he opened his eyes, his lids so heavy that for a moment he thought they'd been sewn shut. His body ached, not the sharp sting it had first been, now it was much duller, bearable. It would have to be either way, wouldn't it? Voldemort wouldn't care that was he injured, if anything the Dark Lord would probably elate in the knowledge. Yes, Draco would have to grit his teeth and get on with it; the consequences for not doing so would be severe.

It was dark in the hospital wing, the only light was that of the lantern on his bedside table, he found it odd that the candle inside had been left to burn, usually it was put out by seven p.m., his eyes flicked to the antique clock, it was already quarter past nine.

Draco sucked in a breath, he had less than an hour to open the cabinet -which he'd managed to fix only the evening before- and get the other Death Eater's to the one place he least wanted the evil scene to unfold; the Astronomy Tower. This was by no means the first time he'd wondered why it had to be there. Why Voldemort had chosen that place, of all places, for Dumbledore's murder at his hand to play out. The Astronomy Tower was his sanctuary, his shelter, where he was reminded of all the good things in his life...and he was being forced to soil it!

He made to get up, pain shot through him, causing him to clutch his stomach. It was then he heard a small snore, his head snapped around to his left and his face softened. There she was curled up in the chair beside his bed, her brow furrowed while she was sound asleep.

She was there in the bathroom, it had been her who he'd seen and heard crying. She was his angel, she hadn't left him. Not once. And he was about to betray her in the worst way. He felt sick!

Draco set his jaw and turned away, he snatched up the clothes that had been left for him and sat on the bed as he began to pull his suit trousers on. It hurt to move but he didn't care, it would serve him right in the end. He should hurt. Especially for what he was about to do to Dumbledore, to _her_, to every poor sod at this sorry school!

He slipped into his black jumper though not without a fair bit of effort and a great deal of discomfort, so much so that as he put his right arm into the sleeve he was met with an ache along the entire left side of his body. A loud grunt escaped his throat. _Damn Potter and his bloody dark curses!_ He spat silently. _Where'd _he_ learn those kinds of spells anyway?_

"Draco?" that lovely, familiar voice behind him spoke.

He remained silent, debating whether or not to tell her the truth.

He certainly didn't want to have to lie to her anymore. He didn't just want her to _think_ he was a good person, he also wanted to live up to it, and after everything she'd done for him the least he could do was come clean.

However, it wasn't just his life he was betting with; it was his mother's, father's and, most certainly, hers.

The chair squeaked as she got up and, from the corner of his eye, he watched her make her way around the bed to sit beside him. He looked at her. Her eyes searched his face as they always did, he was afraid what she might find there, so he turned his gaze to the window which the February rain pattered against robustly,

"I'm glad you're awake." she murmured and he heard the small smile in her voice, "I was worried."

"Don't be." he replied, distant but polite all the same.

As if they were strangers.

Draco let out a bitter scoff. He still remembered the first time he met her on the train, he'd been undecided as to whether he liked her or not. It wasn't until Parkinson made some rude comment and Granger gave as good as -if not better- than she got that he decided he did like her. Come to think of it, Granger's comment was better by far.

The memory made him want to go back in time, if not to prevent all this bad shit from happening than merely just to live the good bits of it again. He sighed, he wanted so desperately to be a better person for her.

Granger rested her right hand on his left one, the moment their skin touched the snake in the Dark Mark slithered in protest.

_Dirty blood._

The words echoed in his head over and over, said not by him but by Voldemort, his father, his aunt Bellatrix, Thorfinn Rowle and all the other Death Eaters he'd come to meet.

Draco snatched his hand away, glaring at her, his skin crawled with self-loathing when he saw her disappointed expression and her shoulders slump,

"Do you remember the first night I found you on the Astronomy Tower...?" he began, waiting for her reply which came in the form of a confused nod, "You said that as long as I didn't mean what I said or did then you'd have no choice but to forgive me. Does that still apply?"

She frowned and bit her lip, dark orbs full of silent dread,

"You know it does."

"What if I do something terrible?" he asked, his voice cracking, hands gripping the bed linen tightly.

She rose her eyebrows, he noted her gaze fell upon his left arm.

Thankfully Snape had hidden the mark with a curious enchantment while Madame Pomfrey tended to his wounds, but the spell had long worn off. He wondered had Granger seen it, or was she beginning to doubt him herself? He wouldn't blame her if she did, maybe if she knew what he was she'd be able stay away and keep herself alive.

"What are you talking about?"

"What if I do something awful...something I don't want to do?"

She lifted her head heavenwards as if the answer would just fall from the extravagant ceiling, then as if dissatisfied it had not, she let her eyes fall to stare at her lap. Hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve -something, he'd learnt, she did when she was nervous. Granger tucked her hair behind her ear and finally her eyes found his. No longer searching his face it seemed but merely memorising it, like she somehow knew this would be their last night together.

Because after this he would return to Malfoy Manor with the Death Eaters and he would serve under Lord Voldemort for the rest of his -surely to be short- life.

The only circumstances in which they might meet weren't good ones and so, regardless that he would miss her terribly, he would rather never see her again and hope she was safe, than have to see her writhing about on the floor of the manor with Bellatrix above her, torturing her. The mere thought was nearly enough to break him.

"I'll still be here." she replied firmly, almost convincing him.

Of course he knew better, she was too good, her morals too high and so very much intact. Not like him, betraying everyone's trust and out of cowardice at that!

Draco shook his head. The end for them was coming, he could taste it on his tongue. How foolish he'd been all these years, deluding himself into believing that something could come from this! Whatever it was. That there was a decent future for them. What did they have in reality? A coffin for each of them at best. He doubted they'd even get that.

"No, you won't." he stood, keeping his back to her as he shrugged into his suit jacket,

"What's that supposed to mean? What aren't you telling me?"

He said nothing. She grabbed his arm and yanked him around to face her. There was fire there, the sort waywardness that had landed her a place in the hospital a fair few times, just as it had him. That's why he loved her, that's why they worked so well together because there was passion, it's why fought so often, why he would be willing to die for her. There was no-one quite like Granger.

The Dark Mark hissed at him as her lips met his rather forcefully, both hands cupping his face. He didn't mind, if anything he was as eager as she was. His hands wound in her hair. He had very nearly forgotten how it felt to kiss her. How everything melted away when he was with her, how nothing mattered but the feel of her, a precious thing, beautiful and pure under his hands. How reassuring it felt to hold her there.

This was where he was meant to be, this was how it was meant to be. While before all the pieces had been scattered all over the place, now it was all coming back together. She was mending him with just one kiss. In this moment, he knew who he was, what he wanted to become and he felt ineffably sorry knowing it would never be like this again. Yet the feeling of inexplicable belonging never left him. He wanted to stay this way forever. Closed off to the world so nothing could ever harm her, so she would never feel an ounce of hurt and so it wouldn't be because of him. He knew it was hopeless though. He began to pull away. His chest grew tight as the silent goodbye strangled his heart, like the vines of Devil's Snare, but the further he moved back the more she pulled him towards her. Like a sad game of Tug-of-War. Her hands gripping his arms now as if to keep him place. Again he shook his head, the movement less stubborn, more pleading, still she drew him nearer.

Did she know the agony she was inflicting upon him? Was it his punishment for the way he'd treated her overtime?

It started with the Mark burning, followed by a sharp pounding in the back of his head as if someone were trying to break through, then the realisation dawned...Voldemort.

He shoved Granger away and shut his eyes tightly as he defended his mind against the Dark Lord. It was no easy feat. He was more powerful and determined to penetrate the boy's thoughts than anyone he'd come across, but Draco was equally determined to keep him out. God forbid what would happen if Voldemort discovered his long hidden secret. He vaguely heard Granger demanding to know what was the matter with him. Her voice a blur as he fought to protect them both. Gradually, the pressure began to decrease as the Dark Lord gave in, the final image he saw, out of the many that had flooded his mind, was that of Voldemort smirking. Triumphant. Arrogant. Leaving Draco to ponder a horrifying thought; how much had he seen while the boy was unaware and kissing a muggle-born?

After a few minutes Draco opened his eyes, he released a shallow breath, something trickled down into his mouth, tasting faintly metallic. He reached up to touch his nose and came away with a dark liquid on his fingertips. He stared at it, transfixed,

"Merlin, is that blood?" Granger asked, examining his fingertips, she grabbed a cloth off the bedside cabinet, using it to dab up the red substance, "What on earth was that? And don't you dare think about being all blooming cryptic this time either!"

He managed a weak smile at her, it was so typically her way of showing she cared; yelling at him, hitting him, every bit of it was an affectionate gesture.

"What happened to not bossing me about?" he murmured, while her lips pressed in a hard line.

She gave him a warning look, he saw the cogs in her head working, the snide replies flickered across her features, harsh words yet to be spoken. Oh yes, she was going to come back with something he no doubt merited, and unfortunately that was never anything good.

But to his surprise, she blew out a frustrated breathe and merely kept dabbing, she didn't even bother to press him despite her demand for an explanation.

Draco wrapped his lean, pale fingers around her more petite ones, bringing the cloth away from his face. She gripped his hand in a death vice. Fear danced in the air around them. It was a strange sensation for both of them. For so long they'd been together, even if they hated each other, they still attended the same school, they still saw each other every day and now that was being ripped away from them, her hand in his told him that losing her in any way would be worse than just losing a friend, it would be like losing a limb, she was part of him now, and he liked to think she felt the same way. It gave him a sense of blind hope to think that she would miss him, that maybe one day they'd both make it out of this mess alive, maybe they'd get their chance. . .

But of course they wouldn't.

"Why do I feel like you're saying goodbye?" she asked.

He stroked her knuckles with his thump, both now smeared with blood,

"Maybe I am."

Granger gave his hand a squeeze before leaning her head against his shoulder. He heard her inhale his scent, the cologne he'd come to discover she loved. It was like some twisted play of fate; years he'd waited to have her like this, to be able to be this close to her, to do things that couples did and he was going to destroy it all in an instant the moment the Killing curse left his mouth.

"Why?" she asked,

"Because." it seemed to be his answer of late, it was the most honest one he could give,

"You can't go!"

Draco blinked back tears. Hands on her shoulders, he pushed her down to sit on the bed and briefly glanced at the clock, nine-forty-one p.m., he didn't have much time left at all. He'd have to make this quick,

"That's not your decision to make. It's not even mine."

"And why can't I go with you exactly?" she said in that bossy tone of hers.

He ran a hand through his hair. Nine-forty-two.

"You don't want to go where I'm going. Please, just...trust me?"

She looked down, tracing the pattern on the quilt, lips turned down at the corners. He bent down to kiss her cheek, the final contact that was ever to be made between them, and felt a dampness there. He'd made her cry –_again._

Draco pulled the silver brooch out of his pocket, the sapphire stone gleamed in the candlelight. He placed it in her hand and folded her fingers around it. She looked up at him, her eyes pain-filled and fearful.

"Keep this with you. Never _ever_ take it off, alright?"

She nodded, her breath rapid,

"Draco, I-"

The blonde brushed a strand of hair from her eyes,

"I know...I love you too." they stood like that for a moment, neither wanting to move, until finally Draco broke away for the last time, "Goodbye, Granger." he whispered.

And with that he left the hospital wing. He didn't ask her not to follow him, he didn't need to. He knew her pride would stop her from running after him, it would make her look weak after all and Hermione Granger was anything but weak. That's why he knew she'd pull through, she was strong and brave and perfect and, eventually, she'd forget about him. Twenty years from now she'd probably look back and scowl, wondering what she was thinking giving him the time of day. She'd be better off without him.

He roughly wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his wrist as he strode brusquely through the corridors, half-running up the steps that would eventually lead him to the Astronomy Tower.

It was all slipping through his fingers.

And after tonight, everything would be gone.


	17. The Witch's Eye

**Year Seven: The Deathly Hallows**

Chapter 48

The Witch's Eye

Everything had changed.

Hermione didn't know what to do with herself. All her tears were spent. She was anaesthetized to the bone, unable to feel or eat or sleep. Everywhere she looked the absence of them both screamed at her and the silence was deafening. It was strange how the world could still rotate when they were both gone; one a man she saw as a second father, someone whom she had looked up to since first meeting him, the other her best friend, a boy she'd fallen in love with, even knowing it might be dangerous.

After he left her in the hospital wing, she had sat there, too much in shock to move. She'd known full well from the way he spoke and watched her cautiously that something bad was going to happen, she'd known that when he told her he was leaving he meant that it was for good. Still she hadn't been able to move, it was as though she were in a body binding spell, for a moment she thought maybe she had been -Draco had always been strangely good with the sort of magic that left others helpless...

_Death Eater_. Her head ground the two words out with an angry bite.

No. She realised. It wasn't a dark curse he had used and it was none of the things he'd been taught over the summer by the greatest dark wizard of all time. It was simply Draco. His natural ability to dazzle and scare her and bring her life to a standstill.

However she hadn't realised that while she'd sat taking it all in, he was atop the Astronomy Tower, wand pointed at Professor Dumbledore and surrounded by Death Eaters. Harry had told her what had happened when he and the headmaster returned from the cave, he'd told her about the vanishing cabinet Draco had been ordered to fix in way of getting Voldemort's followers into the castle, he'd told her that Voldemort had threatened him, and also that Snape had been the one to kill Dumbledore. Not Draco.

The fact that Harry had said he was about to lower his wand didn't even light up a flicker of hope inside her. She wasn't sure such a feeling still existed, in fact it had been so long since she'd felt that way that she had almost forgotten what it felt like, she doubted she would recognise it if she were ever to feel it again. The war was just beginning and there was no room for fanciful pretences anymore, war required clear thinking and a fair amount of ruthlessness.

Hermione pulled herself from her bed and reached for the _Daily Prophet_ which notified her of another muggle family's murder at the hands of Voldemort. She'd lost track of how many families –muggle and wizarding- he'd killed the past few months, she'd stopped counting when the numbers hit double figures. She just couldn't stand it, they were strangers yet she mourned for them all the same, knowing how it would destroy her if the same had happened to her loved ones. With a sigh, Hermione grabbed her small purple bag and cleared her room of whatever possessions would help her through this mission; all her textbooks on the wizarding world in case something interesting cropped up, a small box of valuable potions and ingredients such as the Essence of Dittany, Polyjuice Potion, and Veritaserum, a tent and of course a few clothes. She kept it practical, taking only what she would need and no more. No photographs of her parents nor silly trinkets of sentimental value.

Brushing her hair behind her ears, she opened the twin ivory doors to her wardrobe and pulled the small shoebox from the shelf above the rail. A shaky breath escaped her throat as she set the box down and opened it. A small smile graced her lips as she saw his face staring back at her, his white blonde hair combed neatly to one side and those piercing, angry grey-blue eyes just as she remembered them. It was the last photo he'd been seen in and he didn't look too happy. Hermione traced the date on the newspaper clipping with her thumb. '_April 5__th__ 2011, Notorious Malfoy Family Allied with the Dark Lord?' _it read. She set the photo down inside the box once again and lifted the small gold bracelet instead. She held it up, watching the charms sparkle. Hermione smiled as the memories crossed her mind, then she dropped the necklace and this time she simply traced her fingers over the ribbon that secured their letters in place.

"'Mione, love?" her mother called, breaking her from her thoughts, "Tea is ready."

She closed her eyes and took a long breath,

"Coming mum!"

Hermione secured the lid in place, and pulled her wand from her jeans pocket. She aimed it at the box and with a lump in her throat uttered the words that would erase any physical evidence of him,

"_Reducto." _she whispered, there was a small gust of wind that erupted from the wand and in an instant the box transformed into a pile of ash on her bed.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and charmed the remains out the open bay window. A part of her felt him being stripped away from her, all she had left now was the memories, but she knew even they would fade over time, in her mind's eye his face was only a shadow of what it truly was, her mind didn't allow her to imagine his eye's twinkling, nor did it allow her to imagine his rough voice. Her imaginings of him had been slowly altered until they were just as the pictures in the paper –silent and grainy, doing him no justice.

And this was just the beginning of what she was giving away.

Her head hung, Hermione made her way downstairs and into the sitting room where her mother and father, Laura and Robert Granger, sat with their backs to her as they discussed how down she'd been lately and how they knew something was wrong in the wizarding world. This was it. This may be the final time she see her parents. Hermione knew that she and many of her friends may not come back from this war, it scared and saddened her to think that she may be stealing her parent's memories from them and may never be able to return them. But she also knew that she couldn't let them die her.

"_Obliviate." _

She made her way into the hall before they turned around, quickly slipping on her jacket, she set the two tickets on the sideboard by the door before opening it and leaving without a word. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and trudged down the street, trying to wipe away the tears that seemed to keep falling. Hermione Granger had never felt so alone in all her life and even though the small town was no more empty than usual, she heard nothing but her own thudding heartbeat and the sniffling of her nose. It was a low, distant murmur that seemed to consume her; never had such noises feel so quiet and the silence so loud. The sky was as grey as the surrounding buildings and somehow the town she'd known for so long suddenly felt ominous. The place's lifelessness gave her sluggish form more incentive to move, to keep pushing slowly forward. Once she met with the Order she knew she would be alright again, she would have to, she had no choice, she had to be brave for Harry and keep her fears locked away in the crevice of her mind. She had to trust that he knew what he was doing by hunting these Horcruxes.

Hermione shivered against the cold as the rain pattered down slowly, she huddled into herself as she crossed the street and made her way to the underground station. Hermione descended the steps unhurriedly, savouring each moment as much as she could. For so long she'd felt more at home in the wizarding world than anywhere else, but now...now all she wanted was to sit with her parents, curled up on the sofa and reading a book. She longed for that sense of comfort, for the illusion of safety. The evidence of Voldemort's rise to power seemed to be everywhere she looked, even the muggles seem out of sorts as if they somehow felt what was coming too.

She sat down on one of the small metal benches and waited for the two hour long train into London. Soon she was too lost in thought to notice the bustling of people as they entered and exited the various trains around the station. Hermione couldn't help but succumb to the pessimism swirling in her gut, making her feel sick. How many of these muggles –parents, lovers, friends, children- would die at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? How many lives would be lost while they were fighting in the war? How many muggle graves would be filled without any of them knowing why? Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed in it down and pushed it back with a shallow intake of breath.

An old man jerked at her arm, she turned around find him hunched over and half blind with a long white beard and scars stretching across the length of his face. He stared at her with mad eyes that seemed to bulge out of his skull,

"Can I help you?" she asked, trying to be polite.

He gave her a look that said not to be coy,

"You're a witch, aren't ya?" he said in a low whisper.

Hermione was up in an instant and pulled him aside into a dark corner, well out of earshot of the muggles at the station. She stared at him for a moment, completely shell-shocked and pondering how on earth he could have known. Then her heart stopped.

"And who are you?" her hand was already on her wand –something he had apparently noticed if the way he smiled was anything to go by.

The old man stuck his hand out from his torn cloak, his skin was wrinkled and covered with age spots, his nails long and sharp.

"Giovanni Spindlewick Eckhard." he replied, still waiting for her to shake his hand.

Hermione's brow furrowed. Where had she heard that name before? She racked her brain, desperately trying to remember where she'd heard it. He somehow guessed her train of thought and dropped his hand, he stared at her from between his long, greasy white curtain of hair.

"I think you'll 'ave 'eard of me brother." his accent was even worse than Hagrid's, "Alderan Fearwood Eckhard."

Her eyes went wide. Of course, she should have known! She suddenly remembered Professor Binns talking about him in first year. He spent fourteen years in Azkaban for injuring a goblin during an attempt to rob Gringotts. Hermione suddenly remembered that day so clearly, how she and Draco had been whispering all through class because they both already knew the topic like the back of their hand. She smiled at the memory of how they'd argued over the most ridiculous things.

"Your brother was a criminal." she stated firmly, "Why should I trust you?"

Eckhard looked around the station wildly, as if checking to make certain they were still very much out of the way of any passers-by. He leaned in close and Hermione wanted nothing more than to recoil as his breath stank something rotten, his teeth were black and twisted. Everything about him just felt wrong. His crazed hazel eyes made her want to turn away from him and pass it off as a hallucination, a nightmare she would later forget about but she knew she couldn't. He was real and he may also have some information on the war...why else would he bother her?

"I'm not a Death Eater if that's what you're asking."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. No, he wasn't. If he had been he would have killed her already regardless of the surrounding muggles, after all Voldemort's followers were a little less than discreet. Still that didn't mean he wasn't a foe.

"Is there a reason why you're talking to me?" she said rudely as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, isn't it obvious? You're that Granger girl, aren't ya? The muggle-born who's been in all the papers..."

She gave a court nod before quickly scanning the station for her train, which should have been here by now. Eckhard licked the sweat from his upper lip and smiled a big gap-toothed grin,

"The Dark Lord wants ya dead. _Daily Prophet_ says 'e'll pay a big sum for anyone who can turn ya in."

Her wand was out and pointed at his neck in a heartbeat, the ten and three-quarter inches of vine-wood and dragon-heartstring barely visible in the shadowy corner. Eckhard merely laughed while Hermione's chest rose and fell in both anger and fear,

"Threatening me won't do you any good."

"Oh, put it away," Eckhard rolled his eyes, "I'm not gonna 'and ya over to that ol' snake."

She cocked an eyebrow, wondering why she was even bothering listening to this lunatic –he was clearly off his broomstick. Although reluctant, she did indeed lower her wand. She watched as Eckhard rummaged through his cloak pockets with a look of bewilderment on his face. Hermione tapped her foot as she glanced behind her once again, this time she saw the small lights of her train as it slowly pulled up to the station. It would only take a few more moments for it to arrive and she didn't have time to wait around. Mad Eye had been clear; they had to be at Grimmauld Place for four to make it to four Private Drive for five if they were going to get Harry to the Burrow alive. She needed to leave now.

"Aha!" Eckhard called when he found whatever it was he'd been looking for, "'Ere."

Hermione caught the small golden item he'd tossed at her. She looked it over briefly and found it appeared to be nothing more than a small glass sphere filled with swirling golden dust.

"What is it?"

"Those who study black magic call it a Witch's Eye. They were created centuries ago."

Hermione heard the train pulling in and nodded hastily for Eckhard to carry on,

"Legend says the witch cut out the eye of beast who could see the future, then she ground the eye down to a powder and sealed the powder away into ten glass spheres using black magic. It's said that anyone who uses the Witch's Eye will see their future and to do that you just 'ave to smash the glass."

She swallowed hard. Playing with dark magic was out of the option, but knowing the outcome of the war...well, it was tempting. The train shrieked as it ground to a halt. Hermione was about to thank him and leave when he cut her off,

"But...whoever should use the Witch's Eye will forever be indebted to the witch and thus when they die must go with her to the place where all the dark ones dwell."

Hermione blanched despite her logical mind telling her it was all just an old wives tale. Eckhard saw her expression and winked at her,

"You could use it yourself, if ya want, or you could give it to your friend 'Arry Potter. Just remember 'the Witch's Eye, the Witch's Eye lets you peek through the veil of time, but the Witch's Eye, the Witch's Eye will also eat your mind'." Eckhard sang the song in a childlike manner before bursting into laughter.

She cleared her throat and stuffed the Witch's Eye into her bag. Wiping her sweaty palms against her jeans, Hermione turned on her heel and made her way towards the entrance of the train while Eckhard stood still laughing whole-heartedly.


End file.
